Capsule Corpse
by DoraMouse
Summary: A member of the Briefs family is dead. The Great Saiyaman is among the accused. Videl decides to investigate and she isn't the only one - Goten has his reasons. But hey, this is just summary. Read the story to find out more. In Progress.
1. Setting the Stage

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball/Z/GT but I do own this story.

* * *

**Setting the Stage**

" - am sure that he doesn't mean to be - "

ChiChis words drifted in from the kitchen. Why did it seem like that women was always in the kitchen?

Of course, Videl knew the answer. The amount of cooking that ChiChi did on an average day could feed a village for a month. But in this house, all her efforts would barely sate the appetites of... Well. Actually, that was part of the problem. The Son House frequently had visitors. ChiChi never knew how many people - or aliens or whatever - to expect for a meal.

" - sometimes they just - "

It was difficult to hear ChiChi over the various sounds of the kitchen. Videl would only catch a handful of words. The rest would be lost to the hum of a blender running or the ping of an oven timer or the noise of the dishwasher in rinse mode. But today, Videl didn't need to hear all the words. She had a fair idea of what ChiChi was saying.

There were some conversations that, for the sake of dignity, were best held at a distance.

So Videl was perched on a chair in the dining room. Fidgeting with the bracelets that kept getting caught in the long loose sleeves of her favorite red shirt. Admiring the embroidered flowers and vines that ran up each side of her pitch black jeans. Ignoring, for once, the few fluffed strands of dark brown hair that dared to hang over her eyes. Her bare feet resting on the rims of sandals that, to be polite, she had taken off before entering the house.

She could have gone into the kitchen. She could have offered to help. She didn't. Videl didn't want to see the expression on ChiChis face. ChiChis voice sounded calm enough, that was true. But they were speaking of things that pained the older woman.

ChiChi was apologizing for them. Again. Her sons. Her husband. The entire male population in general. ChiChi loved her family and was proud of them and yet... She felt the need to apologize for them. Constantly.

Gohan didn't mean to be insensitive - that's what his mother always claimed. He was just so accustomed to being strong and smart and everything else. Thus sometimes Gohan made the mistake of expecting other people to be capable of things that only he could find simple. Gohan was like his father in that regard, apparently. So willing to believe in other peoples potential that he occasionally seemed to forget their limits. And when reminded of other peoples limits then he became protective. Always so protective.

_Too protective._ Videl thought.

Prior to marriage, Videls life had been one of action. She'd been raised in and around her fathers dojo, practicing the mixed martial arts. Videl had always been good at fighting. She'd learned to defend herself at an early age and had swiftly moved on to defending others as much as possible. In high school Videl had been a part of the Junior Police Force. She'd worked as a volunteer to help solve crimes. At the age of 18, she'd entered the 25th Tenkaichi Budoukai. Granted, that tournament had been a disaster - although Videl couldn't quite remember why. But the point was that not many 18 year old girls were qualified to enter the worlds most challenging martial arts tournament. And Videl had been.

The vast majority of boys - and later, men - in Videls life had not been impressed by her fighting skill. Some had been afraid and had avoided her. Most had viewed Videl as a prize to be won, a challenge to be met, something to be conquered. But Gohan... He had treated her as an equal.

At first.

She wasn't his equal. Videl could admit that. She wasn't as strong as Gohan. She wasn't as fast. She'd never traveled all over the Earth, much less beyond it and... The list went on and on. Honestly, Gohan probably had her beat at everything from solving math equations to snoring.

Still. Was that any basis for leaving her out of things? What had happened to the concept of teamwork? What had happened to solving crimes together?

Videl hated feeling helpless, hated being left behind. She wasn't comfortable with sitting on the sidelines. All the good intentions in the world could not take away the sting of... Neglect, Videl decided. That's what it was. Neglect. Gohan might not mean any disrespect by fighting crime without her but well, it hurt. Videl felt as if Gohan didn't want to be around her anymore. Didn't have any confidence in her abilities. There she was, Videl Son. She had to be one of the strongest people on Earth by now - probably was one of the strongest women on Earth anyway - yet her husband didn't seem to think that she could defend herself.

Or at least, that's how he acted.

ChiChi entered the dining room, bringing with her a pair of steaming teacups. She studied Videls face for a moment and then nodded. ChiChi knew that expression. She knew exactly how Videl felt. Mentally, ChiChi resolved to have a long talk with her eldest son in the near future. Aloud, to Videl, she said. "Why don't you solve a crime without him for a change? Maybe he'd take the hint."

"Can't get there fast enough." Videl replied, accepting a teacup and sipping at the contents. "I'd have to commit a crime to beat him to the scene."

Silence. But ChiChi looked thoughtful.

Videl frowned sideways at her mother-in-law. "_No_."

"Why not!" ChiChi protested, "You could steal a - "

"NO!" Videl growled.

Before this debate could be continued, the back door swung open. A bundle of noise scampered through the kitchen then descended on the dining room. For a few moments Pan - who had been outside playing - was the center of attention, demanding treats and reciting adventures and basically being a hyper five year old. Videl found the behavior rather tiring. Just watching Pan gave her a headache sometimes. But ChiChi adored her granddaughter and was always happy to have a few moments with the child. Something about being around kids seemed to make ChiChi feel younger.

"Would you mind?" ChiChi whispered. She never spoiled Pan without Videls permission.

"If you don't mind." Videl shrugged then glanced down. There were still days when Videl could hardly believe that she was a mother. Videl was nearly twenty-seven. She didn't feel old enough to be a mother. She didn't feel prepared. At times, Videl wished that she could remember more about her own mother. Maybe that would help.

"Pan." Videl spoke in a patient business tone, she had never used babytalk around her daughter. She'd read somewhere that speaking in plain language was better for a childs brain development. Or was it Gohan who'd read that? "If Grandma lets you have cookies now then you have to promise to eat all your salad at dinner tonight. No fussing. Okay?"

"Okay!" Pan agreed. The child always agreed. She didn't always keep her end of the deal though. They would have to work on that.

Videl listened as Pan and ChiChi went to raid the pantry. She almost didn't hear the soft creak of the stairs behind her. Videl turned her head. "Hey."

Goten, who had been trying to sneak upstairs, froze in mid-step. "Um. Hi."

Videl guessed that either Goten had been out on another date or he was trying to avoid a training session with his father. Maybe both. It was hard to be certain. Videl resisted the temptation to pry directly and went with a subtle threat instead. "Pan will be glad to see you."

His expression was priceless. Although Goten was generally nice around kids, he didn't enjoy Pans company. Goten was eighteen years old. He didn't like to be reminded that he was an uncle. Videl suppressed a smile then blinked and sniffed the air. What was that smell? Perfume? She raised a questioning eyebrow.

Goten scowled mildly at her. "You're as bad as Mom." He muttered in a way that made the remark more of a compliment than anything else. He ran a nervous hand through his hair then folded his arms and stared down at Videl from his place on the steps, seeming uncertain of what to do next.

He didn't resemble his father as much anymore. Goten had grown out of that around age nine, with his first major growth spurt. These days... Videl was of the opinion that Goten looked more like Gohan had used to. Tall and sort of awkwardly lankly with the long dark hair and the intense dark eyes.

"Can't believe that I used to babysit you." Videl said wistfully, for no particular reason other than it was true. "Where does the time go?"

Goten was giving her the you-must-live-to-humiliate-me glare. Feeling that he couldn't yet escape the conversation, he opted to change the topic instead. "Whatcha been up to?"

"Nothing much." Videl inspected the tea leaves in the bottom of her cup. Searching for a pattern, a meaning. That's what her life needed these days, some meaning. "I'd like to do more." She added absently.

Suddenly seeing a way to end the talk, Goten said. "So why don't you?" And while Videl was contemplating an answer, he snuck off.

* * *

Females were strange. Goten had always known that much. But with Videl and also with his mother... He could sympathize. Much as he hated to admit it.

Goku was a good father. Gohan was a nice older brother. Yet at the same time...

Earlier this very afternoon, Gohan had asked Goten to please check on something. And Goten had checked and had dutifully reported the results to his brother. And then Gohan had gone ahead and double checked anyway. Which made Goten feel positively worthless, as if his own brother couldn't trust him to do anything right. Goten knew that Gohan probably didn't mean to be insulting. But didn't his older brother realize...?

No. Gohan probably didn't realize. So Goten made excuses for his brother, the same ones he had always made. The same ones that their mother had always made.

Gohan had grown up in hard times. Gohan was the sort of person who had to do things himself, it was just ingrained in his nature. Much as Gohan wanted to trust people, he didn't seem completely able to. That's just the way he was. Always on edge, always sort of expecting the worst to happen. It wasn't Gohans fault. It wasn't anyones fault. Gohan had been the victim of unfortunate circumstances, that's all there was to it.

And their father, Goku, was essentially the same way. Only worse. Gohan still asked for the odd rare favor. Even if he did more or less end up doing things on his own, Gohan at least tried to include other people. Goku... Had become more of a loner. Self-sufficient. Goten couldn't recall his father ever asking anyone for anything. If Goku wanted something done, he did it. Or tried to, at any rate.

Irritating was an understatement. Goten wished that his father and brother could understand the amount of damage they'd done to his confidence. And to his mothers confidence. And to Videls confidence. And to the collective dignity of every decent warrior on planet Earth. But there wasn't a gentle way to enlighten them. So perhaps it was better to let Goku and Gohan continue as they were. No point in making them feel as if family and friends had turned against them, that wouldn't improve anything.

Goten loved and respected his family, all the members. Even his niece, Pan - although he didn't often show it since the little girl tended to get on his nerves. But his father and his brother in particular... Were just hard to be around. They had a way of making virtually everyone near them feel useless.

Which was why Goten had gotten into the habit of avoiding them both.

His brother was easy to avoid. Gohan was so busy with work and crime fighting and college that - aside from phone calls and the standard blurb on the news - Goten didn't often see or hear from his elder brother.

Avoiding his father, that was a bit more tricky.

_In a way,_ Goten thought as he scrubbed off the scent of perfume and grinned lopsidedly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, _I ought to be thankful._

Avoiding Goku had given Goten the motivation to acquire an active social life. Goten went to school early for one club and stayed after school for two other clubs and had a part time job on the weekends. When Goten wasn't preoccupied with work, homework or club projects then he was either sleeping, hanging out with friends or pestering Vegeta.

That was a dangerous hobby to have, pestering Vegeta. But Goten had his reasons. The main reason was that as long as Vegeta remained healthy, Goten didn't have to worry quite as much about sparring against his father. For this same basic reason Goten had also made a point of occasionally checking in on Uub, his fathers student.

Fighting wasn't all that bad. Goten was perfectly capable of fighting. He had fought in the past. Those memories were a bit hazy, Goten couldn't recall what exactly he'd been fighting for back then. Still. Goten felt that he would be able to defend himself from most threats on Earth. So why bother with training? Yes, there was room for improvement but... It was just that... Goten didn't want to end up like his father and brother. Excellent warriors, yes, but jaded. A touch nervous. Unwilling to forget what they'd been through. Unable to fully enjoy life. Unaware of how much suffering they inadvertently caused the people who loved them.

Goten was in his room now. He finished pulling on an oversized sweater. He checked his reflection in a full-length mirror, patted the pendant on his silver necklace and ran a comb through his bangs a couple times. This was a well-practiced routine but Goten never got tired of it.

He gathered up the clothes that he'd been wearing earlier - the faint scent of perfume clung to the fabric - and hurriedly escorted them to the washing machine downstairs. He had the speed to do this without being noticed. Once the washing machine had been started, Goten took a few steps towards the kitchen and raised his voice.

The rest was just automatic. Goten had been making polite excuses to leave the house ever since he'd learned to fly. His mother probably wasn't even listening to him anymore. ChiChi had heard his excuses for over eleven years now. And it was always the same sort of thing. Speaking rapidly, Goten would say that he was sorry but he couldn't stay long since he was late for something important. And he wasn't sure when exactly he'd be back but he had a house key so there was no need to wait up for him. And in case of emergency, he could be reached by phone.

By the end of this excuse, Goten would be at least ten yards away from the house. Privately thinking that if ever there was a true emergency, nobody would need to call him. He would notice. He could, after all, detect ki.

* * *

Crime fighting was not something that Gohan defined as fun. It didn't once occur to him that Videl might be upset at being left out because honestly - what was she missing out on? Stress, mainly. The daily parade of weirdos, petty thieves and idiots who tried to solve their problems with violence.

Where did these people come from? Hadn't Shenlong been instructed to leave all the evil people dead? Could the dragon have missed a few lunatics? Or had so many people gone evil within the last ten years?

It saddened Gohan to think that perhaps the latter was true.

Gohan was twenty-eight years old. Tall and broad shouldered - he'd gained some weight in the process of becoming an adult, had gained some height as well - with short dark hair and eyes that were softened by thick-rimmed reading glasses.

He did not enjoy crime fighting. Yet Gohan fought crime anyway. He felt obliged to. Even though he didn't train as much these days, fighting crime wasn't hard for him. So what excuse did he have? None. He couldn't just sit around and let people die, not if it was preventable.

Gohan had other reasons as well. He still blamed himself for certain events in the past, events that he thought should have been prevented. He felt as if he owed a debt to his father - among others. The crime fighting was an unspoken tribute to all the heros that Gohan knew. It was also a crutch, in its own way. People had always had such high expectations of him... It was a compromise, really. Gohan wasn't exactly following in his fathers footsteps but he refused to let anyone down completely. He had become a hero, of sorts.

He had also, in the last six years, become a husband and a father. Which had caused Gohan to become even more devoted to stopping crime. Every criminal that Gohan helped send to jail made the world a little bit safer for Pan. And Videl. And everyone.

So instead of rushing over to his parents house for dinner, Gohan sat alone in a classroom. His classroom. He was a teacher, working part-time. He enjoyed teaching. Especially since one of the benefits of working for the university was that it more than halved his own college expenses. And as Gohan sat checking through the stack of homework that his students had turned in today, a headset covered his ears. A headset that could only pick up police radio frequencies.

From time to time, Gohan would flick a glance at his watch. Knowing that all he had to do was press the tiny button on the side of the watch to trigger a change of costume. From school uniform to superhero, in less than a second flat. If needed.

He was always very careful to avoid pressing the button by accident. Once had been enough. More than enough. Even if the rest of the world had forgotten about the supermarket incident, Gohan could never forget. It had been far too embarrassing.

The Great Saiyaman was, Gohan knew, something of a joke to the other warriors on Earth. He didn't mind. In fact, he understood. The costume wasn't much of a disguise. And how strange it must seem, to the people who knew him and could recognize his energy signature. Yet Gohan kept the costume. Because the costume did serve a purpose. The media still had no idea who the Great Saiyaman truly was and all the various criminals, they had no idea either. Gohan intended to keep it that way.

He was in the midst of underlining a grammar mistake with red ink when some startling news reached his ears. And after all that Gohan had been through in his life, after all that years of listening to police radio frequencies had gotten him accustomed to hearing... It took Gohan a tense moment to recover. Because he was a little surprised that anything could startle him anymore.

He shook his head, listening to the staticky exchanges. Could he have imagined it? The message had been coded. Maybe he'd misheard. Maybe he'd translated the code incorrectly.

Gohan wasn't the only one that had been startled. Several police officers were requesting that the message be repeated.

Satan City - like every community on Earth - had security issues. And the local police had codewords for everything. If the problem was inside a certain part of the city, the police used a certain phrase. If the crisis involved explosives, the police used another certain phrase. This was done so that any criminals who happened to own a headset like Gohans wouldn't be able to easily understand the significance of what the police told each other.

Gohan listened carefully, scribbling the message down on the back of his hand. Taking it apart, codeword by codeword.

He hadn't misheard it the first time.

Not good, not good at all. Gohan wasn't sure what this meant. The message was a general - although rather urgent - order to increase security everywhere in the city. He understood that much but... Why? What sort of trouble were the police expecting? Natural disaster or man made? Had something bad already happened?

Gohan put aside the homework that he'd been grading and turned to the computer on his desk. He had a small computer built into his glasses - that's why the frames were so heavy - but that was mostly to help with navigation in times of low visibility. Right now, what Gohan needed was research. A chance to go online and look through current events.

He checked the world news website first, out of habit. The index of recent headlines showed that there had been a few crimes here and there but nothing too major. Nothing that really stood out. Gohan had only begun to sift through the plethora of lesser news websites when a familiar presence touched the edge of his mind.

_Er. Gohan?_ Dendes telepathic voice betrayed only the faintest hints of anxiety. _How fast can you get to West Capital City?_

A burst of ki registered behind Gohan, a chubby hand grabbed one of his shoulders and for a split second, the world blurred away. Gohan barely even caught a glimpse of Buu. The pink creature giggled and blurred away again, leaving Gohan in... He checked the skyline, noted the roadsigns and read few things around him - the address on the side of a bus, the title of a newspaper in a rack that was labeled 'local', the names of several nearby businesses.

West Capital City. Hrm.

_That fast._ Gohan directed the thought towards Dendes distant energy signature and made a mental note to harass his father about the Instant Transmission technique sometime.

_Oh._ Dende seemed mildly exasperated. _Great. Would you mind putting on that costume of yours and heading over to the Lotus Medical Center, then?_

* * *


	2. Act 1

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 1**

Lotus Medical Center was an ordinary sight. The hospital was made up of a cluster of buildings that bore a collective but vague architectural resemblance to an airport. An oversized sign near the main road tried to make it clear that this was a hospital and not, in fact, an airport. However the sign was somewhat defeated by the presence of a fenced off rectangle of asphalt that was not a parking lot - the invention of cars that could be capsulized had long ago eliminated the need for parking lots - but a reserved landing pad for emergency hovercraft. And all of this was surrounded by a few patches of landscape that were probably intended to look serene but were painfully artificial instead.

Gohan approached the hospital in mild confusion. He hadn't switched into costume yet and he wasn't sure that he needed to. Nothing appeared to be wrong. The hospital was intact. The amount of energy in the area seemed acceptable. There were a lot of people around but this was a big hospital and it was in a large city - there were supposed to be a lot of people around.

A note of caution crept into Gohans thoughts, reminding him that trouble did not always come with a detectable energy signature. He privately scolded himself for relying too much on that skill. Considering the number of warriors who had found ways to conceal the true extent of their power... Ki detection was an inaccurate science. Gohan had learned that lesson the hard way. Threats could not be judged by ki levels alone. It just wasn't prudent.

With a shrug, Gohan blurred forward and changed costume. He arrived in the foyer of the hospital as the Great Saiyaman. The rotating door spun madly in his wake. Other than that, his entrance had been made in silence - without any of the dramatic posing or corny mottos that he had enjoyed using a few years ago. Silence was better for observing.

The interior of the hospital was much the same as the exterior. A wide space, organized and very clean with nicely arranged fake plants that did their best to suggest tranquillity. Thick sturdy walls, an abundance of square windows. All designs that implied function. Nobody wandered around in this building. People either sat in chairs or stood in lines or walked in straight paths with hurried steps, all looking as if they had clear ideas about exactly where they were going and why.

Gohan felt out of place. He didn't understand why he had been asked to come here. There didn't appear to be any immediate danger. How was this connected to the police in Satan City? Why had Dende sounded so urgent? In retrospect, if there WAS real trouble then why hadn't anyone told his father or...

A loud, hysterical voice shattered the calm of the hospital foyer. "I will NOT - " The voice began and then faded for a moment, as if the owner of the voice had ducked into a room somewhere or was being interrupted by softer speakers. "NO!" The voice came back. "Don't you dare! I want my lawyers!"

Warriors with high amounts of ki were easy to detect. Regular people, even when in very bad moods, were not so easily sensed. And being inside a hospital in large city with people all around did not make the ki detection of a single regular person a simple task. But Gohan had some idea of what he was looking for now - so it didn't take him too long to find what he was seeking. The energy signature matched the voice. The voice belonged to...

A woman in an expensive suit. She had pale blue hair cut so short that not a strand of it fell past her ears. She stomped down a corridor and entered the main foyer. Her arms swung rigidly at her sides, her hands clenched into fists. She was still screaming accusations, denials and curses at the bewildered group of people that trailed after her. Her voice was getting raspy.

Bulma Briefs.

It actually took a few moments for the recognition to come. Gohan didn't have much in the way of spare time anymore. His life was full of people that required his attention on a daily basis. Videl and Pan. His students and classmates and teachers and coworkers. He barely managed to visit his mother, father and brother once a week. The truth was that in the past six years, Gohan had only managed to visit Kuririn at Kame Island once. And he hadn't really bothered to keep track of any of the other warriors. Nor had he felt compelled to check on Vegeta, who would have probably just been annoyed by the attention anyway. Thus it had been more than six years since Gohans last visit to Capsule Corp.

Gohan wanted to cringe. Bulma had designed the Great Saiyaman costume that he was wearing. So Bulma would recognize him in a heartbeat. Not good. Intelligent though she was, Bulma was not known for being discreet. She was far too likely to call Gohan by his first name and ruin his carefully kept secret.

After selecting a location that he hopefully couldn't be seen from, Gohan wondered what in the world Bulma was doing here. What was going on? Was Bulma actually crying?

Just then, words that had previously been blurred by emotion were repeated clearly.

"I wouldn't have killed him!" Bulma was declaring, distress beginning to outweigh the anger in her sharp tone. "Why doesn't anyone believe me!"

* * *

A sudden soft voice leapt into the dining room. Singing in a dramatic near whisper. Trying to convince everyone that life was wonderful and that today was the perfect day to renew a certain brand of contract with the friendly local telephone dealer.

Videl reached for her mobile phone. She was going to have to figure out how to change the ringtone one of these days. When she had been younger, phones had just rang. Videl missed that. She wasn't sure if it was possible to have a phone that just plain rang anymore. Nowadays even the brand new phones came with product-endorsing music. As if a person who had already gone ahead and bought the phone really needed to be subjected to the stupid commercial for the phone every time they got a phone call.

Irritated, Videl snatched her mobile phone out of her left sandal - where she had put it for safekeeping - and snapped. "What!"

"Er." The voice on the other end of the line hesitated, as if the owner felt that perhaps he had dialed a wrong number. "Videl?"

Videl sighed. "Sorry Dad."

"Are you all right?" Mr. Satan inquired.

Videl thought about saying no. She thought about saying that her husband had been neglecting her sense of adventure and that she despised the obnoxious default ringtone on her mobile phone. But that would have made her sound like a whiny teenager when she was supposed to be a mature adult. Why bother her father with such trivia, anyway? It would just worry him. Despite the fact that Mr. Satan was still considered the World Champion, there wasn't much that he could do to fix Videls life. He had enough trouble, what with trying to keep his own life in decent working order.

"I'm fine." Videl lied and then, so that it wasn't a total lie, she added. "The phone just startled me."

"Oh." Mr. Satan hadn't always been on good terms with his only child but he knew Videl well enough to recognize that she had just lied to him. This bothered Mr. Satan but he choose to let it slide, Videl probably had her reasons. And besides... "Um. Well. I was hoping to get your opinion on something. Is this a bad time?"

Videl had to concede that it was not a bad time. It was almost never a bad time. Videl liked giving her opinion on things. She felt that one of her fathers most redeeming qualities was his ability to ask for her advice. And he followed her advice on a regular basis, which was even more redeeming.

"So what did you need my input on?"

Mr. Satan tried to outline the situation in a casual tone.

Videl wrinkled her nose, drew her eyebrows together and selected her next words carefully. "Exactly what makes you think that the civilized world is on the verge of a major economic disaster?"

"It's hypothetical!" Mr. Satan lied and forced a laugh. "Pure imagination..." He let the sentence trail off. It was useless. Videl knew him too well, she would see right through the lie.

She did.

Mr. Satan scrambled to recover. "No. It's not like that! Honestly! Of course I'm sober! Videl!" He began to pace the small dressing room that he was in, making wide dismissive gestures with his hands. Trying to ignore the digital clock mounted on a wall and the very real piece of paper that lay atop his dresser. After denying everything sufficiently... He dared to creep back towards the subject. Because under the circumstances, he just had to know. "So if something like that did happen, which it never will... Out of sheer curiosity... What would you do?"

A thick silence filled the air and made Mr. Satan wonder if his daughter had hung up on him.

Videl finally spoke. "Dad, I know that you mean well but trying to protect me from things like this will do more harm than good. Now tell me the truth."

Mr. Satan sighed. On the one hand, this was the sort of behavior that made him feel like a lousy parent because he couldn't shield Videl from the fact that the world was not always a great place. On the other hand... He was so very proud of Videl, so full of admiration. She was such a trooper. So calm and smart. Able to adapt to anything. Able to hold her own.

He took a deep breath and launched into the truth.

"I have to give a speech soon. It'll be broadcast live on all the channels. I don't know why they picked me..." Mr. Satan shook his head and frowned. That was a lie. He did know why the media had picked him. Nobody else had wanted the job. "Anyway. I have to tell people, Videl. I have to get up there and smile at the cameras and tell everyone that the president of the most profitable company on this planet is dead. And then I get to spend at least half an hour trying to convince everyone not to panic or pull their money out of the banks or sell off all their stocks."

Videl, without knowing that her father was pacing in his dressing room, had begun to pace the dining room of the Son House.

Capsule Corporation. The worlds leading technology company. The worlds only large technology company. The most profitable business on Earth. And now... Dr. Briefs, founder and president of the company, was dead.

"I don't understand." Videl stated. "It's sad that Dr. Briefs has died but he was an old man. Why do you think that his death will cause the world economy to fall apart? Capsule Corp must have known that Dr. Briefs would die someday. They must have prepared. The company executives will probably just put someone new in charge after the funeral and then it'll be business as usual. Right?"

"That's how it should have happened." Mr. Satan explained, voice grim. "But I guess things haven't happened as they should." There were noises in the background. Mr. Satan told someone that he'd be there in minute and then returned his attention to the phone call. "Rehearsal. Look, Videl, I'll have to call back..."

Videl had paced out of the dining room, through the kitchen and into the backyard. Her thumb rested on a tiny button on the side of her watch. All she had to do was apply a little pressure and she'd be in superhero mode. The Second Saiyaman. Videl hoped that the costume would still fit her, she hadn't worn it in a long time.

"Where are you?" Videl asked, "I could fly over there and..."

"Forget it." Her father insisted, flattered by Videls genuine concern. "Save your energy. I'll be all right. It's everyone else that I'm worried about. Look - I'll call you once the speech is done with. Take care, Videl. Give Pan a hug for me."

And then he hung up.

But Videl was not prepared to let that be the end of the subject.

* * *

"Name it." Bulma had opened her purse. "There can't be enough evidence to hold me without bail." Her voice was much calmer now. Dangerous. "So go ahead. Name the price. Whatever you want. I can double it. Triple it. Easily."

Silence.

The police officers were stunned. They obviously hadn't expected to be bribed at all, much less in a public place in broad daylight. It was a trap. Gohan saw that right away. If even a single police officer took the money then there would be witnesses and accusations and at the very least, all the officers would be fired. But it was good trap, a very tempting trap, because Bulma was one of the richest people on Earth. She could afford almost any price they named.

Offering bribes to the police was, of course, a crime. Gohan couldn't let this happen.

The police were further stunned. From their point of view, it was as if Gohan had magically appeared. He was just - poof - there all the sudden, this tall stranger in the dark clothes with the cape flapping behind him. And because Gohans costume was plain - he didn't have any logos or the words 'Great Saiyaman' written across his chest or anything - the police didn't instantly realize who they were dealing with. Because of the reflective visor on his helmet, the police couldn't even see Gohans eyes.

Yet the disapproval registered. There was something almost threatening in Gohans stance. Something that silently reminded each of the police officers in turn that they had a lot at stake here - honor, career, duty and ambition - and that Bulma was only offering them money. Which was nice but... In the long run, it just wasn't worth it. Nothing good could come from selling out.

"Miss Briefs." An officer finally spoke, his tone held an air of strained patience. "You are under arrest."

It was clear that Bulma had been told this before. She stiffened and bristled at the words, indignant. However before she could threaten, curse at or otherwise insult the police, the officer continued.

"If you are still eligible for bail then a judge will inform you of the amount once it has been set." The officer paused. "In the meantime, if you will please come with us - "

Bulma scoffed, sounding braver than she looked. "No! You've got the wrong person. I didn't kill anyone! I can't be arrested! I have an important meeting at..." Bulma was backing away again. Her attention was riveted to the police. She hadn't acknowledged Gohan.

Didn't she realize that by resisting arrest she had basically given the police legal permission to use force?

Gohan was quietly drawing a blank. He'd fought crime for more than ten years and he'd never once run into a situation like this. Bulma wasn't really a friend, more of a distant acquaintance. But... Even if she was, apparently, being accused of murder - he couldn't just let the police tackle her. Or shoot at her. But... Then... Whose side was he on here? If Bulma had in fact committed the crime that she was accused of... She shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. Should she?

A vague nagging haunted Gohan. A nagging that had haunted him since the age of four and that always made its presence felt when he dealt with criminals.

_Hypocrite._

Gohan had never felt comfortable dealing justice to murderers because he himself had gotten away with murder. More than once. Sure, he'd always been fighting for a good cause but... Murder was murder was murder. When you killed someone... Once and for all... Did the reasons really matter? No. Not in Gohans mind. Because what it boiled down to was that someone was dead and the blood was on your hands and no amount of washing would ever completely remove the stain.

What right did he have to inflict punishment? None.

Except...

Gohan _wanted_ to believe in the justice system. He needed to be reassured that the law did in fact work in the way that it was supposed to. That innocent people had nothing to fear. Yes, Bulma was guilty of resisting arrest and attempting to bribe the police. But if she was claiming to be innocent of murder... Gohan wanted to believe her. And he wanted to have the justice system prove it.

Nobody in the hospital saw Gohan move. The people in the main foyer just saw Bulma trip. She didn't even hit the ground. The police caught Bulma and handcuffed her and recited her rights to her - again - as they escorted her outside. With Bulma protesting loudly the whole way. The police vehicles were then taken out of their capsules and once the police van had materialized, Bulma was loaded into the back of it.

An inconvenience, that's what it was. Maybe even less than that. Bulma was one of the richest people on Earth. Missing work for a couple of days shouldn't hurt her. And she was innocent, Gohan felt almost certain of that. But he couldn't let her evade the police until he was absolutely certain. Which wouldn't take long. There was an easy way to find out.

The afterlife.

Gohan knew that his father, Goku, could probably still teleport into the afterlife. And Buu had to be capable of the same feat. And Dende was able to hold telepathic conversations with creatures in the afterlife. So it shouldn't be too hard, then, to ask some questions in the afterlife and figure out if Bulma had in fact killed someone.

Instinctively, Gohan hesitated. He checked the world for half a dozen different energy signatures and quickly found them all. Knowing who was alive made him feel better. He spent an absent minute wondering who Bulma was supposed to have killed.

There. There was the corridor that Bulma had stormed out of earlier. So maybe the answer lay in that direction, down that corridor...

"Excuse me?"

A tap on the shoulder caught Gohan off guard, which was rare. He managed to resist the impulse to counter attack and instead calmly directed his attention towards the person who had chosen to notice his presence.

"You know Miss Briefs then do you?" It was a furry humanoid creature in a police uniform. One of the few police officers that had stayed behind and that was now getting ready to depart. It didn't wait for a reply. "If you wouldn't mind coming down to the station, sir, we'd like to ask you some questions. All right?"

Escape would have been easy. But these were police. As the Great Saiyaman, Gohan felt obliged to work with the police. He wasn't going to fight or run away - not from the police and certainly not in a hospital. People came to this place to be healed, not to be caught in the crossfire. And besides, Gohan was well aware of his own power. The police were regular creatures, Gohan doubted that they could cause him any harm. Fear didn't even cross his mind. Maybe the West Capital City police just wanted his help. Maybe if he answered their questions, they'd answer his.

* * *

Satan City had started as a small town on the edge of a dense tropical jungle. Tourists had come to take pictures of the scenery and so the town had gradually expanded to the north and east, leaving the jungle intact. The result was a modern city where the 'old downtown' was not in the center of the city but on the far southwest edges instead. The jungle was no longer so dense - having a large city next door had altered the air, water and soil quality enough to decimate most of the nearby wilderness - but fragments of the jungle remained.

Videl admired the groves of trees as she flew overhead. With a little smirk she angled downward, zigzagging through the patches of jungle. Startling the birds and monkeys. Videl had done this countless times since learning to fly but it remained a thrill. The simple fact that she could fly at all, much less with such marvelous control... Videl hoped that she would never get so bored as to take the skill for granted.

She slowed her pace and stuck her feet out, landing in a crouch on the sidewalk outside of Satan City Police Headquarters. It was an old building and a small one, too small for such a large city. And quiet. Not much was happening here. There were more modern facilities near the center of Satan City - that's where most of the police worked out of nowadays. But there were still a few important people with offices in the old building. And after so many years of volunteering with the police, Videl knew exactly who she needed to speak with.

Videl stood, shook her hair out of her eyes, dusted herself off and walked confidently up the steps. Five minutes later found her standing in the office of an old friend. The Satan City Police Chief.

"I can't give you details." The police chief was saying. "I don't have details. There might not even BE details."

"This does sound like a pretty open-and-shut case, Videl." remarked a deputy. "Murder. First degree. They've got it on tape."

"No." Videl continued to frown, her arms folded over her chest. "It doesn't make sense. Bulma Briefs is supposed to be a genius, isn't she? Why would she kill anyone in front of a security camera? Fujiko, please - are you sure that...?"

Fujiko, the police chief, sighed. "Yes. I'm sure. I've told you everything I know and that's probably more than I'm supposed to share. Still. It's good that you're here Videl because about five minutes ago - "

"Maybe you should sit down." The deputy interrupted.

Videl glanced from Fujiko to the deputy and then back to Fujiko with increasing anxiety. Her voice was flat, not knowing whether the news would be good or bad. "What is it?"

"We've just received word from West Capital City that The Great Saiyaman has been arrested." Fujiko said. "I'm expected to give a statement to the press at Town Hall in about twenty minutes. I'd like you to be there, Videl."

* * *


	3. Act 2

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 2**

The oldest mortal creature on Earth had once been Uranai Baba, a human witch whose age was rumored to comfortably exceed five hundred years. And the eldest immortal creature on Earth had once been Korin, with an age of at least eight hundred years.

Those records had been shattered. Now the eldest creature residing on Earth was just over five million and ten years old.

Buu was neither mortal nor immortal but somewhere inbetween. And despite his immense age, he showed no actual signs of aging. This could have been due to the fact that Buu had only spent a tiny fraction of his extremely long life active.

When first created, he'd had a few years of blowing up galaxies and reeking havoc. Buu had never really understood why the wizard had ordered him to do such things. It hadn't been Buus place to ask questions. Even if it HAD been his place to ask questions - he wouldn't have. For two reasons. Or maybe just one. Fear. The fear of sounding stupid, of using the language wrong. Buu hadn't been summoned for the purpose of having a conversation. And blowing things up hadn't required much in the way of language skills. So Buu didn't have - had never really had - any confidence in his ability to choose the right words. And then... The other fear. The main one. The wizard.

Despite the fact that Buu had been given enormous amounts of strength... Despite the fact that Buu wasn't precisely a genius... He had immediately realized that the wizard was something to fear. Because if power and life could be given, then they could also be taken away.

It was a very frightening thing, to know for a fact that you existed only at the whim of some other creature.

At the final battle with the last remaining Kaioshin, Buus worst fear had been validated. The evil wizard had abruptly sealed Buu into a shell and had then hurled the shell into space. So for the better part of five million years, Buu had been trapped - helpless and alone - inside the shell. He had drifted in and out of consciousness. Lost. Floating on the tide of the universe. Gradually passing the numerous suns and stars and planets... Funny, that there were still so many planets after all the damage that he'd caused.

Even to a monster with no understanding of calendars or watches, five million years is a long wait. More than once, Buu had hoped that death would come for him. More than once, Buu had wondered if perhaps he was already dead.

And then, finally, he'd been found again. Brought to Earth. Awakened.

That had been ten years ago. Unlike most creatures on Earth, Buu remembered the events of the recent past. Vividly. The new wizard and the saiyans and the gods and... But the battles were the least interesting part. What had captured Buus attention was that this world - this world which he could so easily destroy - was full of fascinating details. But then, perhaps five million years of complete isolation would be enough to make anyone appreciate the delicate beauty of a flower, the colors of the sky at dawn, the wonder of a rainbow. The joys of being able to eat and drink and smell and feel textures again. And weather! There had never been any weather inside the shell which had imprisoned him.

Needless to say, the last ten years had been an amazing education for Buu. He had eaten a pizza, ridden a bike, played in the rain, used a telephone and done a hundred thousand other things, each for the very first time. So many milestones had come and gone and there was so much more to do. Buu had existed for more than five million years - yet before Earth, he felt that he had never really lived. The wizards had never given him anything but orders. His life had been so empty back then. Now he had a nice place to live and a fun job and good friends.

Mr. Hercule Satan was a good friend. Buu shared Hercules mansion in Satan City and occasionally worked as a security guard for the man. However, much as he valued Mr. Satans friendship, Buu privately considered Bee his best friend in the world. The dog had been at his side almost constantly for the past ten years.

They sat together on a remote grassy hilltop, a monster and his dog, watching the clouds change shape.

Buu liked the wilderness. He hadn't quite caught on to the concepts of money or clothing, so he felt more comfortable out in the wild. Out here he could wander around and not have to worry about accidentally breaking anything expensive. Out here he could wear just a cape and tennis shoes. Out here, nobody stared.

People always seemed to stare at him. Once, Buu had enjoyed the attention. But now... Deep down, it unsettled him. Buu was a giant humanoid pink blob. Having been created by magic, it was entirely possible that Buu was the only creature of his kind in existence. For the most part, people stared at Buu simply because they'd never seen - or didn't remember seeing - anything like him. Which bothered Buu. Because he didn't want to feel alone and outcast. Not again. Not ever. He'd spent five million years floating around in isolation. That was enough. More than enough. He didn't care to be reminded of the emptiness.

Above, the clouds were white and fluffy. Moving slowly across the sky on a cool breeze that smelled like rain. Buu tried to enjoy the scenery. He couldn't.

Bee had changed over the years. The dogs fur was thinning and losing its color in places. Bee didn't play as much anymore, didn't bark as much either. And Mr. Satan had changed too. Hercule had lost a lot of the hair on his head, some of his teeth and a few inches of his height. The mans muscles had gone lean and ropy on him. Buu frowned. Everyone that he knew was changing in this way. Buu didn't age. So he couldn't truly understand the process of aging or why the Earthings did it. All he knew was that his friends had changed and that it was kind of scary. What if his friends didn't stop changing? What might his best friends look like in another five or ten years? Buu didn't want to imagine.

He'd tried on several occasions to heal his friends, thinking that perhaps they were sick. The repeated healings had made Bee a little more energetic and had caused Mr. Satan to have a few less wrinkles but other than that, no effect. Buu didn't understand why he couldn't do more to cure his friends. There had to be a way...

A surge of concern washed over Buu. He reached over and very gently lifted Bee into his arms. The dog was lighter these days and didn't wriggle much, barely wagging its tail and licking his hand. Buu stood and tried to decide where to teleport to.

Buu wanted to go to Mr. Satan. Buu needed to hear Hercule say - for the umpteenth time - that Bee was okay, that this sort of behavior was normal for dogs. He also wanted to make sure that Hercule was okay because the man had seemed upset earlier. But Hercule was working today. And he had asked Buu to please stay away from the television station. Buu had gotten the clear impression that Mr. Satan was trying to protect him. There were people that wanted to hire Buu to play the role of an evil monster on tv shows. Already, the offer had been made and declined more than once. Buu understood that if people saw him being evil on tv shows then they might start to remember what had happened ten years ago, when he'd actually been evil. So Buu decided to respect Mr. Satans request. He wouldn't go to the tv station.

After a moments thought, Buu teleported.

* * *

A drumroll followed by a perky voice saying _"and the winner is..."_.

This was Gotens current ringtone. The drumroll repeated a few times before, mildly irritated, Goten gave up the controls of the game he was playing and made an excuse to leave the room. The Audio Visual club was, by far, his favorite group. The club was easy to belong to, they only ever did fundraisers when they wanted to buy or rent a new game. Two or three times a year, the club would enter a science contest or do a school presentation. But for the most part it was just a bunch of kids who wanted to talk, hang out, play video games and learn the tricks of everyday technology. How to do special effects with a digital camera. How to change the ringtone of a mobile phone. Nothing too major.

One of the things that Goten had learned was how to activate caller ID in a such way that it couldn't be blocked or bypassed.

Another drumroll. Alone in the corridor, Goten studied the screen of his phone. The caller ID data puzzled him. Why would anyone be calling him from West Capital City? That was long distance. And why, of all things, was the call coming from a police department?

Possibilities flicked against his mind and Goten didn't like any of them. So instead of answering the call, he closed his phone. Waited. Eventually the phone fell silent. Goten shook off the momentary chill that had crossed his features and turned back towards the meeting room. His friends were there, playing games and having fun. The thought comforted him and restored his mood. He would go back and enjoy and forget that the mysterious call from West Capital City had ever come. It had probably just been a wrong number. Yes. That was it. Definitely a wrong number.

Goten had barely taken a step when his phone rang again. Only this time, it wasn't the drumroll. The drumroll was a generic ringtone. Goten also had about thirty specialized ringtones programmed into his phone. The one that was being used now - Goten had selected a police siren - indicated that the incoming call was from Videls phone. Which was ridiculous. Because Videl called maybe once a month, to ask that he watch Pan.

His impulse was to ignore this call as well. Goten despised babysitting his niece. Pan was all right but only in small doses.

Then logic kicked in. Videl had been at the house. His mother had also been there and so had Pan. Gohan would probably join them soon and Goku would turn up if he felt like it. And then they'd eat. So Videl shouldn't need anyone to watch Pan today and even if she did, there would be other - more willing - adults available at the Son House.

Why would Videl be calling him?

Reluctantly, Goten answered the phone. If this was some kind of trick and Videl asked him to watch Pan in the near future...

Amazing how quickly those thoughts vanished.

Gotens mind filled with questions but Videl only gave him the chance to ask one. "Wait. What do you mean, I have to tell them?"

"For heavens sake, Goten. You're their son!" Videl chided. "Your mother especially - she'll take the news better if she hears it from you."

Goten remained doubtful. "Wouldn't it be better if you called?"

"I'll call your mother as soon as I can." Videl promised. "But there are some things that I've got to do first." Without much in the way of farewells, Videl finished the conversation and was gone.

It would have been simplicity itself to call her back and demand more answers. But it was almost time for the evening news to be broadcast. If his mother learned of the recent family events from the tv... She'd never completely forgive any of them. So Goten leaned against a wall, took a deep breath and dialed the numbers for home.

* * *

"I think he's sick." Pan said, poking gingerly at her furry patient. "What have you let him eat?"

The list was extensive. Pan had only meant for Buu to make a list of what Bee had eaten recently. Buu, however, had a slightly different perception of time and so was listing everything that he'd ever allowed the dog to consume.

Pans attention drifted. She glanced in the direction of the kitchen, where her grandmother was putting the finishing touches on a dozen recipes. Her stomach grumbled and she frowned. Where had everyone gone? The snacks had been great but Pan was still hungry. She knew that the family wouldn't eat dinner until at least her mother and father joined them. That was the tradition, had been for as long as Pan could remember. Once a week, the family - or at least her parents, herself and her grandmother - gathered to eat dinner at grandmothers house. The food was excellent. Pan was convinced that her grandmother was the best cook on Earth. The bread, the noodles, the rice pudding... The delicious smells nearly made Pan faint from hunger. At this rate... Horror of horrors, even the eggplant stew was starting to look good.

Being five years old, Pan had no concept of how the world had been prior to her birth. She didn't know what had happened ten years ago and thus she didn't think of Buu as being a monster. In fact the very first time Pan had met Buu - the first time she could remember, anyway - she'd been delighted. And then disappointed, when she'd been made aware of the fact that everyone else could see Buu as well. Because her first impulse had been to classify Buu as a wonderful, secret imaginary friend.

He was, after all, the perfect candidate. Buu was playful and silly and humanoid without being any sort of identifiable species. Plus he had all kinds of super powers. Buu could get away with things that not even her grandfather - neither of her grandfathers, actually - would risk. And yet despite all these talents, Buu wasn't scary at all.

It was impossible to be frightened of someone who cared so openly about a dog.

A phone rang - it was an old, outdated phone - inside the house. Pan watched the shadow of her grandmother leave the kitchen. Maybe her father was calling to say he'd be late for dinner. Maybe her mother was calling to say where she'd gone. Pan grimaced. She didn't want to wait anymore. She was half tempted to run into the house and demand a chance to speak with whoever was on the phone.

Then Pan heard a television being turned on. And that was odd. Her grandmother disliked having the television on - even moreso when the family gathered. What could this mean? Was something wrong? What if this meant that her parents weren't coming?

Pan reached two conclusions. The first was that she had been very patient and well-behaved this afternoon and that she shouldn't have to wait anymore, it wasn't fair. The second was that she didn't like being worried and she wasn't going to stand for this. There had to be a way to get everyone here, right now, so that she could see that they were all okay. Also so that the family could sit down and eat.

"Buu!" Even though he wasn't imaginary, Pan considered Buu more of a friend than a relative. Thus she didn't bother to add any formal titles to Buus name. "I can cure your dog!" Pan announced. "First though, you have to do something for me."

* * *

Ridiculous. Impossible. The sort of situation that might have been funny, if only it hadn't been so serious.

Gohan had been through a lot in his twenty-eight years of life. But he'd honestly never expected this. Arrested! What a nightmare! How was this even possible?

He was still in costume, still the Great Saiyaman. So Gohans biggest concern at the moment was protecting his own identity. He hadn't removed his helmet. Hadn't let the police take his picture. Or his fingerprints. He'd refused to sign paperwork. Refused to answer questions. Refused to even let any of the officers stand anywhere near him. But... Dammit. How long could he keep this up? How long before the police figured out his name? What would happen if...

It was going to be bad, Gohan knew that much. He hadn't cooperated. Hadn't earned any brownie points. The police were now convinced of his guilt.

Getting out of jail shouldn't have been this hard. Gohan spent a frustrated moment glaring at the ceiling. The police had allowed him to make a phone call. Gohan had two reasons for not calling home. His mother was the first reason. Gohan loved his mother but wasn't sure how she'd react to the news of his arrest. Would she be ashamed of him? He couldn't bear that. The police were the second reason. Gohan hadn't wanted to dial a number that the police could trace and match with an address. Didn't want to have an emotional conversation when the police might be listening in.

So he'd dialed the number for Gotens mobile phone instead. But Goten hadn't answered.

A normal person would have been stranded. Gohan wasn't normal. When the phone call had failed to do him any good, he'd reached out telepathically. Dendes request had sent Gohan to West Capital City. So it stood to reason that Dende should be aware of recent events. While Dende didn't often interfere directly with human matters... Dende _was_ the guardian of Earth. That _had_ to count for something. Gohan had tried to locate his friend, had tried to ask for help. But Dende wasn't responding. Dende wasn't even detectable.

If it had been anyone else whose ki had vanished, Gohan might have worried. However Dende was a special case. Being a minor god, Dende could wander off into the afterlife and other dimensions. Hence the complete absence of Dendes energy signature on Earth wasn't a guaranteed sign of disaster.

With Goten not answering his phone and Dende not answering telepathic questions, Gohan was stuck. He had resorted to the option of summoning a tiny fraction of his own ki. The veil of energy that enveloped him wasn't even visible. But it was enough, Gohan hoped, for certain people on Earth to take notice. Maybe someone would come. Someone that could get him out of here.

True. Gohan was insanely strong. He was painfully aware of how easy it would be to escape. How simple, to punch a massive hole in the wall and just walk off. How effortless, to power up and just vaporize the entire police station.

But he didn't.

Gohan allowed his eyes to slide from the ceiling to the opposite wall. He tried not to feel instantly repulsed by the cluster of people there.

West Capital City was not a small place. Every day, crimes were committed and people were arrested. The jails saw a lot of traffic. The accused were separated by gender and age. Gohan hadn't told the police anything - certainly not his age. So the police had debated the issue. At first, Gohan had been placed with the juveniles. But apparently, he was going to be tried as an adult in court. So now... Gohan shared a jail with around thirty men. And he didn't know any of these people. What had they been arrested for? Were they innocent or guilty?

What if they were guilty? If he punched a hole in the wall and walked off then all these other criminals would also be able to escape. And what if they were innocent? If he vaporized the entire police station... No. It just wasn't going to do any good. Gohan was stuck. He didn't want to cause the residents of West Capital City any grief. Besides, escape from a police station was a crime on its own. One more strike for the law to hold against him. Which he couldn't afford right now. He was already accused of so much.

It was stupid. Just stupid. Didn't make any sense at all. How in the world could the police accuse the Great Saiyaman of...

Gohan forced the thoughts away. Later. He'd think about it later. Alone. He didn't want to dwell on things that made him angry, not here. No. He had better things to focus on. A plan, that's what he needed now. How was he going to get out of here? There had to be a way. A nice legal way. Something that wouldn't cause anymore trouble. Because his family was going to worry if he didn't make it to dinner. And Pan - he'd promised to read her favorite bedtime story to her tonight. And Videl... Jeez, he didn't even want to go there. And what would happen to his grades if he couldn't get to his classes tomorrow morning? And what about his job, his students? If he missed a day of teaching without calling in... The university wouldn't like that.

Restless was an understatement.

Gohan had been beaten up before. He'd been captured and intimidated and even killed. But he'd never actually been arrested. Never shoved behind bars. The room was cramped, badly lit and foul smelling. And it was getting to him. Not so much the room as the fact that Gohan knew he shouldn't be here. Didn't deserve to be here. There were so many other places that he needed - wanted - to be. So much to do.

The restlessness began to fade. Boredom and agitation crawled across his mind. Gohan had never been very good at just standing around. But what else was there to do in jail? Conversation was out. The other inmates didn't appear to be interested in saying much - they probably didn't want the police to overhear them. The only thing to read in the room was the graffiti. And sleep? No. Gohan did not want to fall asleep in this place.

There is, for some people, a certain amount of reverse psychology to the concept of sleep. Gohan had the misfortune of being in this category. The more he tried to concentrate on staying awake, the more tired he became. The room was just so dull. And it didn't help that he'd had a long day. He'd gotten up extra early this morning so that he could take his daughter to her school before heading off to do some labwork for his own classes.

Gohan winced. He hadn't finished all the experiments yet. His notes still needed to be typed up. And he needed to finish grading the assignments that...

A burst of energy. A chubby pink hand. The jail blurred away.

Happiness was an instant reaction but after that had worn off, Gohan wasn't sure what to feel. Teleporting out of jail... Well. His departure hadn't hurt anyone. Hadn't let any of the other arrested people escape. And with luck, the police of West Capital City might not realize that he was missing right away. But... They would notice eventually. And then what? Would everyone assume that he was guilty? Would he be classified as a fugitive?

As the familiar sight of his parents house filled his vision, Gohan sighed and pressed the button on his watch. Changed back to regular clothes. Back to Son Gohan. The police would be looking for the Great Saiyaman.

* * *


	4. Act 3

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 3**

"No." Uub was a young man with dark skin, dark eyes and a neatly arranged mohawk of stiff dark hair. Lately his attitude had seemed rather dark as well. "If we train here then we'll scare all the fish. The village might starve."

Goku, age forty-eight, was starting to get impatient. Frustrated. Uub had been giving him spiels like this for the past week and half. If they sparred _here_ then they would scare away the fish and starve a village. If they sparred _there_ then it would disturb the habitat of some endangered animal. No matter the location, Uub would find an environmental reason to avoid training.

For most of his life and for all his afterlifes, Goku had trained. He had always been skilled at fighting. This was his forte, this was what he did best. The excuses might even be halfway valid but Goku didn't appreciate them. Uub was strong. The boys potential could not be denied. Goku had never envisioned becoming a full time sensei, a formal teacher of martial arts. He hadn't even taught his sons all that much - hadn't had the chance. But for Uub, Goku had stepped up to the challenge. Had moved away from home. He'd given up so much, in terms of a personal life. A social life. And yet here was Uub, making excuses instead of progress.

"You need to train in all kinds of environments." Goku spoke softly and from experience. "Because your opponents will not always allow you the luxury of choosing the battleground."

Uub had the mind of a ten year old human boy. He had the physical body of a ten year old martial arts champion. But his soul... Uub didn't remember being over five million years old, didn't remember being the pure evil half of an inhuman monster. Yet that's exactly what Uub was.

To be perfectly blunt, it made Goku anxious. Because he'd wished for this. Had asked the gods to reincarnate the evil part of Buus soul in human form. And the gods had granted his wish. So now Goku, feeling responsible, was trying to make sure that Uub didn't have any reason to become evil again. He couldn't afford to fail. Because although Goku felt stronger than ever... Well. He was also older than ever. Almost fifty. Sometimes he felt twice that old. Not physically, of course. Goku was in excellent condition physically. Had been for most of his life. But... Emotionally and mentally and all the rest...

It was no secret. Goku loved martial arts. Loved getting stronger. Loved facing and overcoming the challenges of training. But... Such a paradox. Because even though he did, in some ways, enjoy the art of fighting... He didn't actually enjoy fighting. Couldn't. Fighting wasn't fun. There was too much at stake. People got hurt. People died. Greedy idiots tried to ruin the universe for everyone else. It was horrible to think about. Horrible to remember.

But it happened anyway. Goku had saved the Earth at least half a dozen times. He'd saved other planets too. He'd even saved a chunk of the afterlife once. Victory brought peace. And peace never lasted. There would always be some new evil creature looming on the horizon. Some new evil plan.

The last evil creature had been Buu, ten years ago. Ten long years. It was almost too good to be true. Goku felt the nervous tension in his bones. Something was going to disrupt the peace. Soon. Something evil. Would he be able to save the world again? Would Uub be ready for the fight? What if his student turned against him? What if -

A burst of power. A chubby pink hand. The world slipped away.

Unfortunately for Buu - who was just trying to gather everyone, as per Pans request - Goku was not in the mood to have anything sneak up on him.

* * *

A flash of gold. Much as Goten hated to power up this far, he couldn't just let his father level the house. So he stood and deflected the remnants of the ki blast with his aura.

Silence. Goten took a moment to absorb the scene. He'd been in a corridor at his school a moment ago. Now he was in his own backyard. And Gohan was here, with an unreadable expression. And their father was there, scowling. Pan stood a few yards away. An elderly dog - what was that dogs name, ah right, Bee - sat on the grass. And then there was Buu... Well. Pieces of Buu, anyway.

The scattered pink blobs took a few minutes to pull themselves back together. Buu inspected the flaming crater that his impact had created. He waved a hand. The fires sputtered to nothingness.

"Buu," Pan broke the silence. "I said to bring _everyone_. Where's my Mom? Where's Grandpa Hercule?" Pan turned to face her father, uncle and grandfather. She knew that they were all very strong but she'd never let that frighten her. "You're late for dinner." She scolded.

"Yes. They are." ChiChis voice was ice on steel.

Gotens skin crawled. He dropped his energy shield and checked the reactions around him before looking towards his mother. He respected his mother. Loved her. Admired her. But he never wanted to make her angry. Because her temper... She was kind of scary, that's all. ChiChi didn't get violent when she was angry - that would have been too easy for the warriors to deal with. Goten was hard pressed to put it into words. Somehow his mother had the power to stay calm even when she was angry. Without fighting - without even arguing, sometimes - she could make other people feel guilty and miserable for upsetting her. Revenge came in many forms and if provoked, ChiChi was not above seeking revenge.

She sounded as if she'd been provoked. Her gaze was locked on Gohan. In a tone of forced sweetness, ChiChi said: "Pan, hon, why don't you and Buu go play somewhere else for a while?"

"But I'm hungry!" While not oblivious to the moods of the adults, Pan saw no harm in standing her ground. "Can't we eat dinner first? Please?"

For once in his life, Goten appreciated Pans whining. Yes. Eating dinner would be a good idea. A meal would give his mother some time to cool off. And she would cool off, at least a little bit. Because everyone would compliment her cooking.

"I've thought of that." ChiChi smiled and gave her granddaughter a capsule. "I've packed you a picnic dinner. You and Buu can eat and play and even stay up late, if you want."

Goten tried not to wince. This was painful to watch. He actually pitied his older brother. Their mother rarely got upset enough to disregard Gohans parental authority over Pan.

Pan hesitated for a moment. She gave her father a curious glance, as if wondering just what kind of trouble he was very obviously in. Then, with a shrug, she turned to Buu. Pan didn't mind the idea of camping out. She'd camped out before. And with Buu around... She wouldn't be in any sort of danger. "Let's go visit Icarus." Pan suggested. Buu nodded and lifted Bee, glad for the excuse to leave.

Teleport didn't create any sound. Pan, Buu and Bee blurred and faded and were gone. Simple as that. No flash of light. No sudden inexplicable breezes.

Silence. ChiChi didn't say a thing. She just waited. Expectant.

Gohan didn't make her wait long. "Murder." He kicked at the ground. "I don't even know who they think I killed but..."

"WHAT?" Goku had been living away from his family for the past year in order to train Uub. He'd visited his wife and sons on occasion but had no clue of the recent events.

"Our son has been accused of conspiring to murder Dr. Briefs." ChiChi hissed. Her eyes refocused on Gohan. "It's on the news."

"Oh. Wonderful." Gohan let a short pause convey the depth of his sarcasm. Then he corrected his mother. "_I_ haven't been accused, not exactly. The police in West Capital City are looking for the Great Saiyaman. They don't know that I'm him. Yet."

"But you were arrested?" Goten felt that he might as well contribute to the conversation. He saw the questioning glances and indicated the mobile phone that he still had in his hand. "Videl told me." He directed the next part at his mother. "I was about to call home and let you know."

Gohan looked ready to strangle something. He hadn't wanted his parents to know that he'd been arrested. He grudgingly gave in, although he wasn't about to put all his cards on the table. The Great Saiyaman had been accused of a lot more than murder. But why worry everyone? There was nothing they could do about it. This was personal, something that he alone had to take care of.

"So now you'll be charged with evading the law as well?" ChiChi didn't miss a beat.

Gohan was scrambling for time. "_I_ won't be charged with anything. The Great Saiyaman..."

"What are you going to do," Goten interrupted, "stop fighting crime?"

Abrupt silence. Gohan hadn't thought that far ahead yet and it showed in his expression. He'd been fighting crime for years. Too long to simply drop the habit. But if the police were looking for the Great Saiyaman...

"He could just get a different costume."

Everyone stared at Goku in disbelief for a moment. And then another moment. The collective stare made him feel as if he wasn't quite grasping the situation. Wasn't on the same page as everyone else. Inwardly, Goku squirmed. Why did his ideas always seem to get this kind of a reaction?

ChiChi coughed. She picked her words with care. Her voice was flat. "Yes. You're right. He could just get a different costume. But how would that solve the problem, in the long run?"

Silence.

"Dinner smells good." Goku wandered towards the house. He loved his family, truly he did. He just... Didn't think that he was any good at family stuff. So he gave up. ChiChi was, in his opinion, the better parent. Managing the home - that was her element, her forte. She would think of something. Goku was willing to help out if needed. But he couldn't pretend to fully understand the human legal system.

He did, however, understand televisions and news broadcasts. So Goku wasn't in the house for very long. He returned, full of questions. "Bulma has been arrested?"

Gohan nodded. "I think she's been accused of murder as well."

"First degree murder. And not just accused." Goten cut in - it was nice, for once, to be the one person who had some idea of what was going on. "According to Videl, there's evidence."

"How would Videl know?" Gohan didn't mean to sound irritated but he was. The day had gone sour on him. While he didn't mind that Videl was apparently very well informed, it made him wonder just how many other people might have heard about his being arrested and so forth.

Goten frowned and fidgeted with his mobile phone. "Videl called me from Satan City. I don't know what compelled her to go there but she was visiting some friends of hers in the police department. They told her everything they could." Goten managed a weak smile. "She wanted me to call you, Mom and tell you. I'm also supposed to ask you to watch Pan for a while."

Now Gohan felt sick. He had a faint idea of what was coming next. Mentally he reached out and checked the world for Videls ki signature. He located her with ease. Videls energy signature radiated a blend of curiosity and anger. And she was on the move. Flying, probably. And headed... "She's going to West Capital City, isn't she?" Gohan paled. What if Videl wore her Saiyaman costume? What if the police tried to arrest her? She hadn't trained in a while - what if she wasn't bulletproof anymore?

Goku must have been on the same train of thought because he began to blur around the edges.

"Don't." ChiChis voice held the family in place. "Videl is smarter than that. She must know by now that the West Capital City police are looking for the Saiyaman. She wouldn't go in costume."

"No. She wouldn't." Goten hovered. He despised the thought of West Capital City but he hovered anyway. "And she's not weak either. But she might need help."

Goten departed, a streak of pale orange headed west. Videl hadn't asked for his help. Neither had Gohan. Nobody had asked. But people didn't always ask, Goten knew that. And he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away. He wanted to help. Wanted to prove himself. Who knew, maybe this little crisis would bring the family together. Maybe his brother would be able to trust more easily after all this. Eh. Perhaps that was hoping for too much. But it was worth a shot, at any rate.

* * *

Please. That's what the note said, please. And not just once but several times. Just sitting there. Plain as day. Black on white. Please.

At times like this, Vegeta wondered if he'd made a mistake. Well. No. That wasn't quite it. Most of his life was a mistake. Vegeta knew that much. He had survived all sorts of insane disasters, had been reincarnated twice. It had to be a mistake. Or a punishment. Or a curse. Or something. A life like his - that couldn't just be coincidence. Couldn't just be bad luck.

But, on the whole, perhaps he should have known. Perhaps he should have seen this coming. Perhaps he'd made things worse. Returning to Earth, settling down... Vegeta shook his head. What had he been thinking? How could he have ever believed that things would get better?

Age fifty-four, Vegeta was not in particularly bad health. He'd overcome some of his issues with food - he'd always half expected to be poisoned - and had gained a little weight. Most of it muscle. He'd grown a few inches taller and several hundred times stronger during his years on Earth. Maybe it was his Saiyan heritage, maybe it was the years of gallivanting around in space - but time hadn't taken a visible toll on him. No gray hairs. No wrinkles. When strangers guessed his age, they tended to assume that Vegeta was in his mid-thirties. Or younger.

Which had always infuriated Bulma. Because she was fifty-two now and she hadn't aged anywhere near as gracefully. No matter how she tried to cover her age with makeup and cosmetic surgery... No matter how she tried to distract people with her flashy jewelry and her expensive clothes...

Vegeta had never understood what the woman had against exercise. He suspected that her precious chemical death sticks - humans called them cigarettes - had something to do with it. But Vegeta didn't care to ask. He'd come close, once or twice, to confronting Bulma about her smoking habit. Because the death sticks annoyed him. The smoke had managed to make him sick. More than once. But he hadn't wanted to admit that so...

His attention returned to the note. A little rectangle of paper covered in unsteady rows of dark ink. Familiar cursive handwriting. Vegeta had found the note earlier. It had been hanging on the door of his room. People usually left notes for him there, it was one of the few places where he would notice such things. But none of other notes had been like this one. Not ever. And Vegeta wasn't quite sure how to react.

He was being asked - very sincerely and very politely and by someone that he cared about - to just mind his own business. Which hurt, a little. Because he'd started to think that welfare of the Briefs family was his business, sort of. Bulma was... Well. Vegeta had been living and sleeping with her, on and off, for slightly more than twenty years now. Did their ongoing affair mean nothing? True, they weren't married. But that had been a mutual agreement. Bulma had never been the sort of person who followed tradition. And Vegeta, ever the proud Saiyan at heart, had flat out refused to let human ideals govern his personal life.

But what about the kids?

Er. Kid wasn't really the right word. Trunks was... How old now? Eighteen? Nineteen? Eh. Didn't matter. Trunks was an adult. He had finished school. Found a job. Moved out. And Bura... Well. She was a bit younger. Only six or seven. Certainly not more than eight. But she did her best to act like an adult, usually. That's what all her teachers said, anyway. Bura didn't play as much as her peers. She was in an elementary school - whatever that implied - and during recess, she studied for college exams.

Vegeta hadn't adapted to the role of father terribly well. It wasn't as if he'd had any idea of what a father was supposed to be. The kids hadn't come with instruction manuals. There were still moments when Vegeta regarded his offspring as if they were complete strangers. But, all in all, he'd done his best. He'd kept most of his dignity. And... Well. He did care about the kids, in his own way.

If he hadn't cared, it would have been easy for Vegeta to follow the instructions in the note. Easy to keep to himself. To mind his own business. Very easy. Hmph. So they knew that he cared. They must. If they'd thought, for even one second, that he didn't care - then why bother to leave the note? Why ask at all? Why say please?

What to do...

Dr. Briefs was dead. Bulma was in jail. Vegeta knew that much. He'd seen the news. Rescuing Bulma... Would she be upset? Would it hurt her pride, if she couldn't resolve the situation on her own? Would it make things worse?

He didn't try to decide whether or not Bulma was guilty of murder. Vegeta didn't really care. He was a warrior - a soldier. Always had been. He'd killed so many things... Vegeta couldn't think of murder as a crime. Murder was just a survival technique. And Dr. Briefs... No. Vegeta decided not to think about the dead man.

Despite twenty years of living under the same roof as Bulmas parents, Vegeta hadn't exactly gotten to know the people. They had avoided him. Maybe they'd been afraid of Vegeta. Maybe they'd just been addicted to their work. Maybe both. And the avoidance had been mutual. Not having been raised by his own parents, Vegeta hadn't wanted anyone else to adopt him. That would have been too much like pity. And Vegeta didn't need pity. Plus there had been the language barrier. That had made things awkward. Even when they were all speaking the same language, the Earthlings had their own way of phrasing things. The slang. The technical jargon. On the few occasions that Vegeta had spoken with Bulmas parents, he'd barely understood half of what they'd said. And then there were the chemical death sticks to consider. Vegeta had never been able to tolerate the smell for long. Mrs. Briefs had - thankfully - quit smoking in the same year that Trunks had been born. But, in Vegetas less than humble opinion, Dr. Briefs should have come with a chimney. Or an air freshener. Or something.

A flicker of energy registered in Vegetas mind. He cursed. Why THAT energy signature? Why now? Why...

"Uhm. Hey, Vegeta?" Goku had materialized in the mansion. He was out of sight, a couple of rooms over. The ki was unmistakable.

"Go away." Vegeta knew the threat would be ignored but he made it anyway. He crumpled the note in his hands and listened while the footsteps approached. He closed his eyes, silently counting out his reasons for hating the teleport technique. Reason number one: Vegeta couldn't teleport. Reason number two: Goku could. _Damn._ He didn't feel like dealing with anyone right now.

There was the inevitable moment of appraisal. Goku squinted down at him, trying to gauge his mood. "You all right?"

Privately, Vegeta had to admit that he'd been better. Of course, there had been times in his life when he'd also been worse. "What part of _go away_ do I need to rephrase, Kakarotto?"

Goku had grown up on Earth. Had been raised as if human. What little Goku knew of the Saiyan world, his biological family... Goku didn't like the impressions he'd gotten. So Goku wasn't fond of his Saiyan name. Which was precisely why Vegeta enjoyed using it.

After a moment, Goku changed tactics. "Have the police already been here?"

Vegeta thought about answering that question. And then he thought about the note that was now twisted between his fingers, disintegrating. Please, the note had said. Please.

_Damn._

* * *

"Enough." Videl stood on the sidewalk of a growing urban community. A steady stream of music filled the air, leaking out over the intercom of a small hydro station - most vehicles ran on water or solar power these days - across the street. The skyline of downtown West Capital City was visible in the distance. A few acres of trees and few hundred property lines were all that had kept this place from becoming yet another overcrowded suburb in an already gigantic metropolis.

Minutes ago, Videl had been on the other side of the continent. Standing in the town hall of Satan City. Listening as her friend, Fujiko - the Satan City Police Chief - gave a statement and answered questions. Watching the expressions of the people that had gathered.

It had surprised Videl that so many people had been at the town hall. She hadn't expected more than a handful of reporters to be there. Hadn't expected the nervous citizens, the concerned parents and confused children. Hadn't expected the questions to get to her. Was the Great Saiyaman a fraud, someone had asked. Did his good deeds count for nothing? Could heros be trusted? Could anyone be trusted? Would the police in Satan City be allowed to audit the police in West Capital City, make sure their reasons were solid? Make sure the evidence was legal. What if the Great Saiyaman was being framed?

Videl had stood with the crowd. She'd refused to stand on the stage, behind the podium. She hadn't wanted to be in front of the cameras. Her father was a celebrity. Which meant that by default, Videl was famous.

More than seventeen years ago, Hercule Satan had won the 24th Tenkaichi Budoukai - the worlds largest and most reputable martial arts tournament. With victory had come the right to be called by titles such as the World Martial Arts Champion and Hero of Earth. There had been four more tournaments since then: the 25th, 26th, 27th and 28th Tenkaichi Budoukais. And Hercule Satan had - with some help - won all of them. Thus his fame had multiplied. He was now often called a legend. He had been awarded the highest rank of Grand Master. Because no one else in the history of the tournament had ever won five Tenkaichi Budoukais in a row.

Videl liked her father. But she couldn't stand being asked about him, not by the media. Truth be told, the fame depressed her. Made her feel as if she hadn't done enough with her own life. As if she was living in someone elses shadow. Trapped.

She felt that way now. "Why are you here?" Videl tried not to shout at Goten and failed. "Did he send you out to protect me or what?"

Momentary anger flashed through her veins. How could Gohan do this to her? She was just trying to help, trying to investigate - and all for his sake. Her goal was to clear his name, get the charges against the Great Saiyaman dropped. She KNEW what she was doing. She'd DONE this sort of work before. Videl had been helping to solve crimes long before she'd even met Gohan. And now... Didn't he trust her at all? Didn't her own husband...

"Gohan didn't send me." When the mood struck him, Goten could deadpan with the best of them. "Believe it or not, I'm capable of acting on my own."

Videl remained suspicious. "You're not going to escort me home? You're not here to keep an eye on me?"

"The only reason I'm here," Goten said, "is because I have some questions for you."

Videl frowned. "Shoot."

"Basically, I want to know what kind of plans you have for West Capital City - what are you going to do there?"

"You expect me to believe this?" Videl huffed. "If you're not here to follow me around and keep me out of trouble then WHY do you need to know...?"

Goten scowled. "Because I thought that we could cover more ground this way. So why don't I start looking for clues at Lotus Medical Center. You start with the coporate side of Capsule Corp. We can meet up and compare notes at the police headquarters."

Videl was speechless. For approximately thirty seconds. Then she snapped, her tone full of indignant exasperation. "What is WRONG with you? You can't just... This is REAL, Goten. Not one of your video games, all right?"

"I'm not an idiot, Videl." Gotens stance was rigid. He stood a full foot taller than Videl. He'd inherited his fathers height - and his mothers backbone. When he set his mind to something...

Videl tried to reason with him. "But you've no experience with - "

"Well then maybe _you_ should come and keep an eye on _me_, so that I don't miss anything and mess this up." Gotens voice had dropped to a cynical snarl. "Now are we going to stand here all day or are we going to start investigating?"

Across the street, the music had been replaced by commercials. The commercials ended. The radio DJ - who sounded far too cheerful - blurbed through the usual verbal routine. Reading off cards, probably. Reminding everyone of the time and date. Updates on local weather conditions. Updates on the latest traffic conditions in and around West Capital City. Plugging the radio station at least once every ten seconds. And then switching to another person - a more solemn voice - that began to review the news of the day. Starting with the main headline event. Dr. Briefs was dead. And his death was...

" - under investigation." The solemn voice reported. "On a related note, police believe that they may have found the body of Mrs. Victoria Briefs."

But the police wouldn't be sure, the solemn voice continued, until positive identification of the body was obtained. Without much of a hesitation or any other comments, the solemn voice skimmed through the various other headlines of the day. Banks had closed. Stocks were down. Somewhere in the world there had been a flood. Wildfires had destroyed somewhere else. According to the news of the weird, somewhere a dog - not a cat - had managed to get stuck in a tree. The dog been rescued by a random citizen in a passing aircar. Then the solemn voice was done. The cheerful radio DJ came back and the music started, again.

* * *


	5. Act 4

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 4**

Prior to the age of 31, Vegeta had spent his entire life either asleep in spacepod - and the single passenger spacepods were generally too small to be comfortable, certainly too small for any luggage - or fighting wars on alien worlds. Hence, it hadn't made sense to accumulate any material possessions. Why bother to collect things if you didn't have a chance to use them? Why worry about possessions when you woke up each day expecting to die? Besides, the intergalactic army had provided all of the most basic essentials for survival. Food. Clothes. Weapons. Medicine. For a low-ranked soldier to keep anything other than what the army had issued... Could have been seen as ungrateful, rude and maybe even rebellious behavior. A punishable offense.

So Vegeta had a room of his own at the Capsule Corp mansion. But at first, he hadn't added much of anything to it. Hadn't even rearranged the furniture. He'd needed the space, that was all. Since then... It was amazing how much junk had piled up. Well. Not junk. Not exactly. Weird little stuff, mostly. Stuff that Bulma had enjoyed confusing the hell out of him with. There were some items that Vegeta still didn't understand. Bulma had told him what each item was for but - on more than one occasion - she had lied to him. Deliberately. Because she found it so profoundly entertaining when he did something wrong.

Once, Bulma had informed him that rocks were considered a valid form of payment. Not having ever paid for anything before - and being of the mindset that humans were strange creatures anyway - Vegeta had believed her. The result had been fairly embarrassing. Not quite as embarrassing as the time when Bulma had swapped a bar of soap for a roll of lipstick, but still.

He'd gotten even with her, of course. Eventually. Not that she had ever admitted defeat. If anything, the paybacks had served only to inspire Bulma to find new and better ways to make him look like an absolute idiot.

Anyway. Currently his room held the scattered reminders of each valuable lesson that Vegeta had learned on Earth. Among other things. Drawings that Trunks had scribbled as a toddler. A teddy bear that Bura had stubbornly insisted on leaving in his room. Photographs. Cards. Books. Tools. Gifts that he'd received on the all the various holidays that humans celebrated. Honestly, the only objects in the room that Vegeta had picked out were his clothes and some personal supplies - including a modest assortment of gym equipment.

Because he had to keep training. He'd always trained. In truth, he wasn't sure what else to do with himself sometimes. More than once, Vegeta had contemplated the idea of taking up a hobby of some sort. But he was fifty-four years old. Seemed kind of late to change, to start something new. And why should he have to change, anyway? Hadn't he changed enough already? Couldn't at least one thing stay the same? Vegeta LIKED training. He was good at training. He...

"What happened to the gravity chamber?"

Goku had been standing by the window and thinking the question for at least five minutes. It was such an obvious question. Practically begging to be asked. Goku had probably hoped to get an answer without having to put the thought into words. Because the gravity chamber was usually outside, behind the mansion. Sitting in a shallow crater. And the window in Vegetas room faced that crater. So Goku could see exactly what Vegeta had seen earlier, right after finding the note on his door. The crater was there. But the gravity chamber was missing.

* * *

Clean. Sterile. White walls. Tile floors. A maze of little square rooms cluttered with shelves and paperwork. Like a hospital and a library combined. Only smaller. Colder. And quieter, much quieter.

Goten hadn't given a lot of thought to morgues. In truth, he hadn't given much thought to death. He was aware of the concept but it wasn't something that he'd dwelled on. Not recently, anyway. Goten was eighteen years old and healthy. He didn't expect to die anytime in the near future. He didn't remember dying ten years ago. But somewhere between the movies and video games... He'd constructed a mental image of what a morgue should look like.

This wasn't it.

Goten stood in a reception room. Bright carpet on the floor. Bright paintings on the walls. Live plants. Loud music. Comfortable chairs. Stacks of old magazines. Assorted knick-knacks. A television. A vending machine. All very cheery and normal and... Who would have ever guessed? Hrm. Maybe the reception room was also the staff lounge?

Videl was in the adjoining office. Speaking to someone. About her father.

_See? I was right._ Goten thought.

Goten was perfectly willing to admit that Videl was the more practiced detective. In fact, that was exactly why Videl would need his help. She was _known_. And not just as a detective, either. Most of the world population considered Videl a celebrity. So yes, Videl had connections. And yes, she could gain access - easily and legally - to places and people that regular detectives couldn't. But was anyone going to be honest with Videl when they KNEW that she was a part-time investigator? Would anybody even really pay attention to her questions? Would people be too eager to rant about Mr. Satan instead?

_Just keep talking._

Yes. Working with Videl was a good idea. Because as long as people were focused on Videl then Goten was free to sneak around unnoticed.

It was probably dangerous to search for evidence this way. Probably illegal. But Goten had already resolved not to take anything. If - and that was a big if - there was any evidence... He just wanted to see it. Wanted to know what the evidence was and where it was. Videl could figure out a legal way to get whatever they needed.

Lotus Medical Center. West Capital City Police Headquarters. Capsule Corp. All the places they could have started their search for clues. And they were here, instead. In a building that looked like it might have been a restaurant at some point. It wasn't even a full scale morgue. Just a small place for special cases that required more attention than usual. Kind of disturbing, actually, that Videl had known to come here.

Goten was desperately trying to avoid a specific thought. He was fast and silent and careful not to leave fingerprints on anything as he moved from room to room. He knew exactly what he was looking for. But - irony of ironies - he didn't want to see it.

A corpse.

These rooms were closer to what Goten had expected of a morgue. Small and sterile and cold, with tile floors and white walls. And knives. Lots of knives. Entire sets of them, neatly organized by the type and size of the blade. And tables. Flat metal tables. Just the right size for an operation. And the smell...

Goten felt dizzy. Mentally screaming for fresh air. But the only window he'd seen had been in the reception room. He couldn't go back yet.

He didn't want to go forward. The stench - a mix of blood and dust and rot and industrial strength cleaning fluid - got worse ahead. Covering his nose didn't help. His eyes watered. Goten squinted his way towards next room, hoping to have this over with quickly.

It was over quickly. Sort of. A blur, Goten departed the building and threw up. He spent an absent moment wondering if either his brother or father had reacted the same way the first time they'd seen a humanoid corpse. Inwardly, Goten shrugged. He would never know. It wasn't something he felt that he could ask. And it didn't matter. Why compare himself to them? He would never be...

Voices. Goten regained his composure and stepped away from the curb, tuning in to the world around him. The city was huge and active. Traffic jammed the airways. Clusters of pedestrians roamed the sidewalks. People running out to the street and throwing up in the gutter was apparently a normal event in this area. As near as Goten could tell, he hadn't drawn much attention. A few sideways glances in passing but that was it.

A soft breeze. The smooth hiss of airbrakes and landing gear.

The number of glances increased. Everything seemed to slow down. Goten eyes widened and then narrowed. His aura blistering with all the angry little emotions that came to life. He watched, tense and silent with clenched fists, as the vehicle landed in front of him.

It was a luxury vehicle. One of a kind. Not for sale to the general public. Compact and daring and red. With a personalized license plate. And a single passenger. A young man, maybe nineteen or twenty. Medium tall, athletic build. Casual clothes with designer labels. Blue eyes. Pale lavender hair.

Trunks.

He didn't speak to Goten. Didn't look in Gotens direction. Didn't even pretend to acknowledge his former best friend. Trunks simply capsulized his vehicle and walked away. Towards the building. Towards the corpse.

Goten, abruptly hating every nanosecond that he had spent in this city, turned on his heels. Reluctantly and wordlessly, he returned to the office where he'd left Videl.

* * *

To a stranger, it might have seemed as if Vegeta had just ignored the question. As if he hadn't heard it, maybe. However anyone who knew Vegeta halfway decently couldn't have overlooked the _way_ in which Vegeta had ignored the question. Even creatures unable to detect ki might have read it in his stance. Vegeta had only asked for help maybe two or three times in his life - once while dying. He just wasn't the sort who could admit that he didn't always have all the answers.

Goku noticed.

He couldn't help notice. Goku knew Vegetas mind pretty dang well. No surprise there. They had fused once - ten years ago, in an attempt to defeat Buu. Hard _not_ to understand someone after you've shared a physical body with their spirit. Beyond that, though... Well. Years of fighting in ridiculous battles all over the universe had given Goku a lot of experience with fear. As a child, he had always been so open and confident. These days... Eh. The less said, the better. Goku couldn't avoid worrying. Yet he didn't want to dwell on all the 'what ifs' - all the questions that he couldn't answer. But it was a challenge, sometimes, to stay focused on the moment. And not one that he was always successful with.

Which was more than enough to allow Goku to recognize even the most subtle hints of fear and worry in others.

_Not good._ Goku concluded.

Vegeta either didn't know what had happened to the gravity chamber or he knew but wasn't saying anything. And when Vegeta decided not to say anything... Well. Perhaps Vegeta had survived some kind of brutal prisoner of war training out in space. Or perhaps he'd survived actual capture and interrogation before. The point was that Vegeta was not easy to get information from. And that was just on a regular basis. In a situation like this... It would probably take telepathy. Or hypnosis. Or truth serum. Or an extremely severe beating. Or all of the above.

Which meant, in other words, that it would probably be easier to go ask Bulma. She'd always been the talkative one.

The idea of teleporting into a jail did not appeal to Goku. Nevertheless, he made an effort. He tried to locate Bulmas energy signature. However Goku wasn't entirely sure where to begin looking. What part of West Capital City was the police station in? In a city this size, wouldn't there be more than one police station? Did all of the police stations have jails? Would Bulma be locked in a room by herself or would she have to share a room with other accused criminals? It was so difficult to isolate a regular persons energy signature. Especially in a densely populated area.

Finally, Goku gave up. He had a general sense of where Bulma might be but he couldn't pinpoint the exact location. He hadn't had enough practice at detecting regular people. He didn't really know that many regular people.

So much for that, then. Goku wasn't about to teleport when he had nothing more than a vague hunch to follow. Teleportation wasn't a forgiving technique. One little mistake and voosh - your molecular structure would be reduced to a pile of sludge. There were other modes of transport. But flying all over West Capital City and stopping to look inside any building that resembled a police station didn't strike Goku as a good plan. No. There were better options. But first...

"Is anything else missing?"

An edge of panic crept into Gokus mind. Most of the time, evil came in a form that he could deal with. He had dealt with demons and monsters and robots and humans and... Warriors. That had been it, more or less. The list was long but that was the common factor. Evil warriors. There had been Dr. Gero - a scientist - but that almost didn't count. Because Dr. Gero had turned himself into a warrior, a fighting machine, an android. Android 20. The defenders of Earth hadn't defeated Dr. Gero by taking a spelling test or anything, they'd fought him. And then there had been Babidi, the evil wizard. But he didn't really count either. The wizard had just stood around making threats while hiding behind his minions. And all of his minions had been warriors.

The gravity chamber was easy to spot. Easy to see that the crater was empty. But other things... Things kept inside the Capsule Corp mansion... Hopefully nothing else was missing. But if anything else was missing... Would a warrior bother to take anything else? Why? What if the creature that had done this wasn't a warrior? What if...?

Inwardly, Goku swore. And not just because the 'what ifs' were getting on his nerves but because his memory had kicked in. While Goku didn't have a mental inventory of everything that was kept at the Capsule Corp mansion, he was aware of certain items. The dragonball radar, for example. And the time machine, the one that Cell had brought to their world. The mere idea of either of these devices - nevermind the gravity chamber - being in the wrong hands...

"Vegeta!" Rigid body posture was not going to be a good enough answer. No. This was too important. Goku wanted a clear verbal confirmation. So he made a clear verbal threat. In the Saiyan language. Which was not terribly hard to do, considering that most of the Saiyan language was composed of threats.

Saiyan was not Gokus native language. He had grown up on Earth and so he'd learned Earth languages first. The only reason that Goku knew any of these alien threats was because he'd been on the receiving end of them rather frequently for a while. That had been back when Vegetas training exercises had required a sparring partner. Before construction on the gravity chamber had been finished.

Goku waited. He wasn't going to leave without an answer.

A hesitation. Maybe Vegeta had been surprised to hear the threat in Saiyan. Perhaps Goku had mangled a word and said something completely different than he'd intended to. Or maybe Vegeta just didn't believe that Goku would actually follow through on such a threat.

He could follow through. He had the power. Goku knew it. Vegeta knew it. And in the end, that's what counted.

"Fine." Vegeta grumbled, his voice and stance a notch more hostile. "I'll say it. I don't know. I haven't noticed that anything else is missing. But the woman moves things. Now leave."

Goku nearly believed this. There was an ounce of truth to it, that's what made it sound credible. Which wasn't comforting. But... There was something else as well. An instinct. A hunch. Goku couldn't quite put a name to it. And that disturbed him more.

Still. Vegeta had at least answered the question. And he clearly wanted Goku to leave. And Goku couldn't think of any reason to stay. Pestering Vegeta further wasn't going to improve either of their moods. And ChiChi probably expected Goku to return to the house for dinner. And poor Uub might still be hovering above the coast on the other side of the globe, wondering why his sensei had vanished. Eh. That kid was such a headache sometimes...

... _kid_ ...

Half an instant before teleporting away, Goku froze. The thing that he hadn't been able to put a name to a moment ago - suddenly it was very clear. The mansion was too quiet. Empty. There was an absence of energy signatures. Yes, Dr. Briefs was dead. And Bulma had been arrested. And Trunks had moved out. But... Vegeta had another child. And it was late. School should have been done with a long time ago.

"Where is - " Goku had never actually met the other child. He'd been told about the kid and he'd seen a couple snapshots of Bulma holding the infant - a girl - but that had been ages ago. So the childs name escaped him. "Where is your daughter?"

Goku wasn't an expert in parenting but he knew, from experience, precisely what it felt like to have a child taken away. Vegeta could stand there with a scowl and refuse to speak but... There was no disguising the reaction that had rippled through the elder Saiyans energy signature.

Since Goku hadn't met this other child - Bura was the name, he realized, as he noticed a piece of signed artwork - Goku had no way of knowing what her energy signature was like. He wouldn't have recognized Buras ki if someone had clubbed him with it. But Vegeta should have been able to sense Buras energy signature. And surely, Vegeta would have smashed anyone that dared to even think about harming... Being a full-fledged and slightly overtrained Saiyan, very few things on Earth would have been able to prevent Vegeta from protecting...

_How?_ Goku struggled to imagine the circumstances. What in the world could have happened? How could anybody take a child - nevermind a gravity chamber and heaven only knew what else - from a parent? What could have prevented a bulletproof, ki-blasting warrior from ripping the life out of... What? What could it have been? How could ANYTHING threaten Vegeta without powering up enough to set off the mental alarms of certain elite warriors all over Earth?

"Just leave." Vegeta sounded as if he were on the verge of making several threats in Saiyan.

Goku nodded. "Good idea." Dinner would have to wait. So would Uub. Right now, he needed some answers. And Goku knew where to go for answers. And even if Vegeta wasn't prepared to talk... Well. Better safe than sorry. "You're coming with me."

A statement. Not a question. Vegeta wasn't given a chance to disagree.

* * *

Miss Satan.

Videl did her best not to flinch. It was hard. Here was another reason that the fans of her father annoyed her. They always called her Miss Satan. She didn't mind the Miss. Not too much. It was okay if people thought she was younger than she felt. But... Well... Okay. So she DID mind the Miss. True - Gohan and Pan had their quirks, not all of which were likable. But Videl cherished her marriage and her family. She understood that the general public wasn't aware of her status. The wedding had been private so most people didn't realize that she was now Mrs. Videl Son. And that was fine. But it bothered Videl when people used her maiden name. It bothered Videl when people - especially men - assumed that she was single. Because when fans of her father thought that she was single... They almost always ended up trying to get a date with her.

One of these days, she was going to have to get a wedding ring.

Videl was fidgeting with her hands. Running her thumbs over her fingers. Wishing that she had some solid proof of her marriage to shove under this morons nose.

Money wasn't the issue. They could afford a ring. But Videl hadn't wanted a ring. Not at first. And that hadn't changed, not really. Videl had never been that fond of jewelry. Especially not the pricy stuff. Not with the work she did. A ring would be too easy to lose or damage. A ring didn't seem practical. Better to invest in a house, an education, groceries. And besides, there had never been time. She and Gohan were both so busy... Each with their own schedule. When had they ever gone to a jewelers? Never. Well. Not outside of stopping crime.

Speaking of crime... _Augh._ The person she was speaking to - he was an expert at changing the subject. Her attempts at getting information were going nowhere. When Videl had casually mentioned how sad it was the Dr. Briefs had died, the clerk had agreed. The mention of Dr. Briefs had lead to speculation about technology and then, somehow, to cheerful tales of classic video games. And then to Hercule, the Champion of Earth. In the clerks opinion, Mr. Satan ranked even higher than the classic video game heros. Videl wasn't sure if this remark was actually a compliment but since the clerk seemed kind of geeky - he struck her as being the type of person who spent too much time lost in fantasy worlds - she decided that he had probably meant it as a compliment.

This did not necessarily lessen Videls desire to strangle the young man.

Maybe it was time to start being more direct. No more dropping hints and hoping that people would say something useful. Except... Videl knew that she had to be careful. She didn't want to influence a potential witness. She didn't want to be telling people what they needed to say. That wouldn't help to uncover the truth.

What was the truth, in this situation? Dr. Briefs was beyond question at the moment. Bulma had, apparently, killed him in front of hospital security cameras. So nobody was going to doubt the cause of death on Dr. Briefs. But his wife, Bulmas mother... Mrs. Victoria Briefs. How had she died? And, perhaps even more importantly, WHEN had she died? That's why Videl had come to this place, this specialized morgue. Maybe the autopsy wasn't finished yet - maybe it hadn't even been started - but the approximate age of the corpse shouldn't be too difficult to determine. And if Mrs. Victoria Briefs had died within the last hour or so... Then Bulma almost certainly had to be innocent. Because Bulma had been arrested. Bulma was in jail. There would be witnesses.

If Mrs. Victoria Briefs had died earlier this morning... If she had died last night or yesterday... If the cause of death was not natural... Then it was extremely possible that, guilty or not, Bulma would be accused of murdering her mother as well. Because if there was proof against Bulma for one murder then adding another charge to the list would be relatively easy. And if Bulma ended up being accused of more than one murder... Then just how much more would the Great Saiyaman be accused of as well?

Maybe Bulma was being framed? Or maybe she was guilty, maybe she had planned this - had planned to make it look as if she was being framed. But...

_Why?_

Videl couldn't begin to answer the questions that flooded her mind. She didn't bother trying. She knew better. This mystery was going to have to be solved one step at a time. And the first step... The first question...

She blinked. Genuinely startled. Videl could detect energy signatures. So she had been aware of the fact that as she sat in this office, talking to the clerk, Goten was exploring the research rooms. She had felt his discomfort. Had caught a glimpse of the blur as it tore out of the building to throw up. And then... The anger. The calm. Two separate energy signatures, opposite in emotion. Both of them intense. And both of them familiar. Goten was the anger. And that meant...

_Trunks?_

As if on cue, he practically glided into the reception area. Trunks Briefs. Videl hadn't seen him for years. Well. Not in person, anyway. Trunks was a popular tabloid subject. Every other week or so, there would be a picture of him doing something completely normal - yawning or scowling or eating - accompanied by a zany headline. Beyond that... Trunks did appear in the mainstream media on occasion. He'd made the cover of a few science journals. Had appeared on talk shows. Had...

Had almost made Videl proud. Almost.

Granted, she hadn't known Trunks for very long. He'd been nine years old when they'd been introduced. And he'd been eleven years old when his parents had decided that he no longer required adult supervision. But during those two years... Videl had hoped, for a while, that maybe she had been a good role model. A good influence.

Nowadays, Videl had to doubt that she'd had any influence on Trunks at all. She hadn't been left in charge of Trunks often. Because she hadn't been able to handle Trunks and Goten both at once, not on her own. Not for long. Watching just Goten - that had been more frequent. Gohan would be out fighting crime or taking a test or something and ChiChi would need to get some errands done and... Videl hadn't minded. True, Videl'd had her own life. She hadn't always been available. But back then, she'd wanted to learn more about the Son family. Gohan especially. And she'd wanted the chance to practice her flying and fighting skills. Babysitting Goten had allowed her to do all of these things. So she'd made the time.

Hence Videl was one of the few people on Earth that had witnessed the change. Goten and Trunks had been best friends once. Energetic trouble makers. Practically inseparable. And then, one day ten years ago... Videl had been asked to watch them both. Together. She had accepted and much to Videls surprise... The boys had sat as far away from each other as possible. Goten radiating anger. Trunks radiating calm. Concerned, Videl had questioned their behavior. The boys had ignored her efforts to make peace between them. Had refused to speak or even look at each other.

And now, here they were. Ten years later. Standing in a small reception room. Goten was a little bit taller than Trunks these days. But it seemed that not much else had changed.

Videl supposed that it was only natural. Trunks and Goten lived in different parts of the world. They had grown up in different environments and gone to different schools. They had met other people, made other friends. Yet the split had been so abrupt. What could have happened?

"You need me to identify a body?" Trunks flashed some form of identification and spoke to the clerk. His voice held the same detached quality as his energy signature. Trunks hadn't acknowledged Goten, despite the fact that Goten was glaring daggers at him. And he hadn't paid any attention to Videl. It was as if the only other person in the building was the clerk.

Videl blinked again. How rude! And how could anyone in Trunks situation be so calm? His mother had been arrested! His grandparents were dead! Could Trunks be hiding something or...

_Oh._

Damn. That's right. Of course Trunks could be hiding something. His emotions, specifically. He'd had a lifetime of practice at that. Videl had seen it for herself. Trunks had been taught to be calm, especially when dealing with the media and various fans. Still. There could be more to it. Videl felt that this was an angle worth investigating. How to begin...

The clerk made some polite excuses to Videl. Then he picked up a clipboard full of forms that would need to be signed and left the office to guide Trunks down the hallway. They had to be going to the room where the body of Mrs. Victoria Briefs was awaiting an autopsy.

_Perfect._ Videl started to follow them. She wanted to see the corpse. Videl didn't like corpses but she'd been doing police work for ages. While the sight of a dead body still made Videl feel sad and sometimes ill, it was a necessary part of her work. Maybe she would be able to figure out the cause of death. Maybe she would be able to estimate the time of death. That would help. And seeing how Trunks reacted to the sight of his grandmothers corpse, that would help as well.

Yes. It was the perfect plan. All Videl had to do was walk quietly and casually. If anyone asked questions, she could play innocent. And...

And then a sudden soft voice leapt into the corridor. Startling everyone in the vicinity. Singing in a dramatic near whisper. Trying to convince everyone that life was wonderful and that today was the perfect day to renew a certain brand of contract with the friendly local telephone dealer.

Videl spent a full minute mentally cursing her mobile phone. After a quick innocent oh-have-I-done-something-wrong? type smile aimed at the clerk, Videl retreated to the reception room. Grumbling.

"You haven't customized the ringtone yet?" Goten asked. He didn't seem as angry now that Trunks was out of sight down the hall.

Videl replied with an incoherent hiss. She removed the phone from her pocket and considered throwing it into a wall. But according to the caller ID, the call was coming from Satan City. So maybe this was important. Videl forced an ounce of patience into her tone as she answered.

"LEAVE!" Said the voice on the other end of the line.

"WHAT!" Videl sputtered. She nearly dropped the phone. But the voice had been familiar. "Dad! What in the world is WRONG with you? Why - ?"

Mr. Hercule Satan interrupted. "You're in West Capital City, aren't you? Don't deny it! Fujiko told me. Listen, Videl. You're a great detective. I'm proud of you. Happy for you. And you know I'm not just saying that. But this mess - please, Videl. Please just leave it to the full time professionals, okay? Please just come home. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Dad..." Videl knew that her father meant well and that he was sincere. She knew that her father had a right to be protective of his only child. But she was tired of life on the sidelines. "I'm not leaving."

"Videl!" Worry and alarm filled Mr. Satans voice. "It's too dangerous! The speech..." He sighed. "The speech I gave on tv, it didn't go so well. The ratings were good, I guess, but people panicked anyway. I couldn't convince them not to. And... I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this. Don't you, Videl?"

"It's entirely possible that Dr. Briefs just happened to die of natural causes while his daughter was visiting him." Videl heard herself say. She didn't know where the idea had come from but it sounded all right. Made the whole situation seem less complex, less dangerous. "And Mrs. Victoria Briefs... I don't know. But maybe the news of her husbands death was too much. The Great Saiyaman has been wrongly accused, Dad. If I can solve this mess then I'll be able to prove that."

"Great." Mr. Satan muttered, cynical. He had faith in Videls abilities. It was the rest of the world that he wasn't so sure about. Would the general public accept any evidence that Videl found? Would anyone be willing to forgive the Great Saiyaman? Or was the damage already done? Mr. Satan shook his head. Then his voice became expectant. "And what about Bulma Briefs?"

Videl blanched, caught off guard. Aware of the fact that Trunks was still in the building. Very aware of the fact that Goten was listening to the entire conversation. Videl dropped her voice to a whisper and spoke rapidly, moving towards the exit. "What do you MEAN _what about Bulma Briefs_?"

Hercule Satan sighed. "There was a news bulletin a little while ago. Bulma Briefs has escaped from jail. The police say that she's armed and dangerous. They've put out an award for information leading to her arrest." A pause. "Videl... Even if Bulma Briefs isn't armed and dangerous... The reward they're offering, it's not small - you understand? There are going to be a lot of people after that woman. And most of them WILL probably be armed and dangerous. So please, Videl, please. Think of your family. And just come home."

Videl could barely believe what she'd heard.

"If it will make you feel better," Mr. Satan offered "if it's really that important to you... Then I can try to contact Buu and see if he will..."

"No." Videl came out of her daze. "Buu is probably playing with Pan by now. And Pan would be upset if he left - she might even try to come with him. Leave them alone. They'll be safer that way. As for me..." Videl sighed and then let the words rush through her. She wasn't going to change her mind. "I'm strong. Please believe that I know what I'm doing. If makes you feel better... My little brother-in-law, you remember Goten, right? Well. He's already insisted on being my shadow for this investigation. And I've got Gohan, if I need him. And Goku. And ChiChi. And Ox King. And Fujiko. And you, Dad. So don't worry. I'll be okay. We'll figure this mess out. Somebody has to do it. Right?"

Another pause.

And eventually, a reply. "Right." Hercule Satan knew that he sounded more than double his age. It was hard, sometimes, to stop being a parent. To stand back and let go. "Right." He repeated dully. "I'm sorry, Videl. You're an adult. You don't need my permission. I just... Want you to come home safe when this is over. That's all. Please be careful. And don't to hesitate to call if you need anything. Okay?"

Videl agreed. The conversation was over soon after that. Videl returned her mobile phone to her pocket then stopped to check the road signs. Goten had followed her outside. He gave her a quizzical stare and waited to see what her response would be.

"Don't take this the wrong way - but we've got to split up." Videl was still whispering. "You're too easy to detect. I don't know what part Trunks might have in all this but I don't care for him to know where I'm going next."

"So where should I go?"

"Anywhere." Videl shrugged. "Maybe try to locate Bulma before any bounty hunters get to her. I don't know if she'll be willing to tell us the truth but she has to have some idea of what's going on."

Goten didn't leave. Videl began to get anxious. Was he going to argue? They didn't have time... Abruptly, Goten put out his hand. Videl stared at it. What did he want? A handshake?

"Your watch." Goten nodded at her wrist.

Videl couldn't hide her confusion. Understanding caught up quickly though. The Great Saiyaman was still wanted by the West Capital City police. And while none of the police knew who the Great Saiyaman was... Videl hadn't been able to conceal her identity. She'd worked with the police of Satan City for too long. They'd recognized her. So it was possible that police all over the world, they might know that she - Videl Satan - was the Second Saiyaman. If the West Capital City police figured out that she was married... If they found some excuse to arrest her...

Jeez. This was not good. With the Great Saiyaman accused of so many things, the reputation of the Second Saiyaman was also vulnerable. The police might come after her. The costume would make it easier. Videl hadn't planned on wearing her superhero gear. But now she realized that she couldn't even afford to be caught with the costume.

"Fine. Here." Videl put the watch into Gotens hand. She was annoyed by the whole situation. Annoyed that she hadn't realized certain things sooner. But proud, a little bit, because maybe she had been a good role model after all. For Goten. Inwardly, Videl smirked at the irony of it. Goten was the last person she'd ever expected to need a good role model.

* * *


	6. Act 5

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 5**

The blurry stars rotated in one direction then slowed down and tilted, spinning back into place. Gohan closed his eyes. _Ow..._

"Daddy?" Pans voice. She was nearby. And she probably thought he was just pretending to be stunned. "Oh. I know what to do. Here, look. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Six." Gohan muttered, arms wrapped around his head. Nothing was broken - except for his glasses - but jeez... He could already feel the bruises taking shape.

Pan huffed, impatient. "No! You have to open your eyes and _look_! Otherwise it doesn't work!"

Flat on his back and embedded half an inch into the ground, Gohan opened one eye. "Two." He corrected. Then he opened both eyes and frowned up at his daughter. "Don't make that gesture."

"Why not?" Pan glanced from her hands to her father and shrugged. Her tone becoming defensive. She clearly had no idea what the gesture meant. All she knew was that... "The big kids at school - "

"Pan." Gohan didn't even have to raise his voice. The debate ended. For now. It was a debate they'd had before. Many times. A debate they would probably have again. Privately, Gohan couldn't understand it. Couldn't relate. Why was his daughter in such a hurry to grow up? Pan was only five. She had her whole life ahead of her. What was so cool about being an adult? There would be plenty of time for being an adult, later. For now... There was childhood. Toys and coloring books and carefree days.

Gohan didn't remember much of his own childhood. There wasn't much to remember. He'd been involved in battles for the Earth since the age of four, after all. So Pan was entitled to be different. She wasn't a warrior. Wasn't being raised in isolation. Pan had teachers and classmates and friends. But... Peer pressure? At age five? What was the world coming to?

"Okay?" Buu spoke, poking gently at Gohans shoulder. The monster had the decency to sound apologetic. Buu must have realized - belatedly - that he'd used a little too much force.

"_Of course_ he's okay." said Pan.

"Ah." Buu waited until Gohan had managed to sit up. "Good. Then... " The monster smiled. "TAG! YOU'RE IT!"

"I heard you... the first time... " Gohan hissed from where he was now newly embedded into the ground. But no one appeared to be paying attention. The rapid pattering of feet signaled that Pan had run away, content to resume the game. An abrupt breeze indicated that Buu had done the same.

A short flash of orange. Gohan hovered and dusted himself off. It was his own fault, he supposed. He should have known better. Pan loved to play games like this. Especially when Buu was around. Simply coming out here... It was like saying _can I play too?_

Pan had enough strength to be dangerous to normal people. A game of tag at school had once resulted in serious damage to the facilities. Three of her classmates had been hospitalized and the rest of the school population - students and teachers alike - had suffered from mild trauma. So Pan had changed schools. And she wasn't allowed to play these kinds of games with regular people anymore.

That's why Gohan couldn't be too angry. He didn't mind the games, occasionally. Pan was all right. Gohan understood that the child was energetic and needed an outlet. Even if he had only come out here to keep an eye on his daughter. Why not play for a bit? Pan didn't have the power to really injure him. Buu, on the other hand...

Golden light flowed into Gohans aura, mixing with and then replacing the pale orange. A long time ago, just before the Cell Games, he'd spent an entire year of his life in Super Saiyan mode. Training, eating, even sleeping - and Super Saiyan all the while. Hence the transformation was exceedingly easy for Gohan nowadays. Going Super Saiyan barely required any effort on his part. Maintaining the power level was also simple. He'd had so much practice. And while mere Super Saiyan might not be enough to defend against Buu during a spirited game of tag... If he could just catch up to Pan... And tag her - very carefully, so as not to harm her... Well. Then she'd probably get bored with playing. Because Pan didn't like to lose.

_Just like her mother._ Gohan thought. Although he had to admit that he'd never been fond of losing either. So perhaps Pan got it from both of her parents. And her grandparents, for that matter. All of them. Gohan thought of his mother and father and father-in-law. None of them liked losing. Not even at simple games like this, tag.

_If only everything in life could be so easily resolved..._

Gohan sighed, trailing after Pans ki. He wasn't in any hurry. The more energy Pan used in this game, the more likely she was to go to bed on time.

* * *

Videl landed outside of Lotus Medical Center. She'd never been in this specific hospital before. But it was part of a chain. There were Lotus Medical Centers in almost every major city on Earth. Satan City included.

People tended to forget that the health care industry was, in fact, a business. True. The government owned and operated several small clinics, most of which provided free services to low income clients. But the government did not own every hospital in the world. Because the government could not even begin to afford the costs. Money for research and medical equipment and doctor salaries... Where did it come from? The government gave out grants and tax breaks to hospitals but that wasn't enough. A small portion of the money came from patients paying their bills. But the rest? Private donations. Corporate sponsors.

Videl knew the history of this hospital. Knew that Capsule Corp had paid for several upgrades to this hospital. Because Dr. Briefs had wanted the employees of Capsule Corporation to have the best health care available. And that had been back when the business was small. Once Capsule Corp had taken off... Then the chain had opened. Because even though Capsule Corporation was still based in West Capital City, now its employees were scattered all over the planet. Accountants and lawyers and creative marketing teams. Distributors and inspectors and all the rest. So the best way to provide good health care to all of these employees... Was to open medical centers practically everywhere.

Lotus Medical Center - the one in Satan City. Videl had been there. Often. And mostly for the sake of other people. Videl was the person who made sure that her father went to his doctor appointments. She took Pan - who had been born in the hospital - in for regular checkups. When the university had required Gohan to pass a physical examination in order to gain employment as a teacher, Videl had made him get over the embarrassment. And when the police officers in Satan City got hurt on the job - Videl knew most of these people. So she'd visited them, when possible.

Which meant that Videl had become fairly well acquainted with the layout of the hospital in Satan City. She knew which floor the pharmacy was on. Knew which wing of the building was occupied by terminally ill patients. Could locate the dentist, the optometrist and half a dozen other things.

Videl approached the Lotus Medical Center of West Capital City. She hoped that the interior layout of this hospital was the same as the one in Satan City. Because there was a room she needed to find.

She did her best to seem normal as she walked into the building. Just a regular person with regular business. Nothing suspicious. Maybe a little confused or lost - Videl was prepared to use those kinds of excuses if anyone questioned her - but nothing dangerous. She stood in the foyer, glanced from side to side. Read the signs. Noticed the cameras.

The cameras were not hidden. They weren't blatantly obvious but they weren't hidden. If a person took a moment to notice... Videl walked across the foyer, trying not to look like someone who was looking at the security cameras. This was the tricky bit. How was she going to sneak up on the guards in the security room? If they were paying attention... Then they could already see her. She'd be on the monitors.

"Excuse me?" The voice was behind Videl. Perky and helpful but with an edge of authority. "Excuse me, Miss? Can I help you find something?"

Videl put on her best naive smile and waited for the nurse to catch up to her. Trying to think of an excuse. Lost and confused would have to work. She didn't have a visitors pass or an appointment. "Hi! I was just..."

The lights went out. For a second the hospital was very quiet. Too quiet. No intercom. No background music. Just a few hundred people, all surprised and holding their breaths. Waiting to see what would happen next.

A deafening siren blared. The nurse went from perky to determined. "Fire alarm." The nurse had to shout to be heard over the noise. Red and white warning lights blinked to life, filling the darkened building with an eerie pulsating glow.

The hallway quickly became crowded. Patients, Videl noticed. The patients were being evacuated. Most of the patients were able to walk. Some were being pushed in wheelchairs or carried on stretchers. The doctors and nurses seemed to flow against the tide. Shouting questions to each other as they tried to herd everyone out. Was this just a drill? Was there really a fire? Had everyone been accounted for? What about the patient in the operating room? What about...

Videl made a decision. She let people push past her. Thus instead of going towards the exit, Videl soon found herself in a deserted hallway. As planned. She flew down the hallway, deeper into the building. There was no longer any need for excuses. No time either. If this was just a drill then it would probably be over soon, the people would come back. But if the building really was on fire... Well. Maybe she could put the fire out. Hopefully before the flames reached anything explosive.

And if she happened to pass by the security room while it was empty... Well. That was fine too.

The low rumble of thunder. A loud clang. Wait. Thunder? Inside the building? Videl hesitated then flew on. Maybe the building was collapsing. Maybe the fire had grown. But there wasn't any heat or smoke. Not in this section of the hospital. The fire must be somewhere else. Maybe it was burning on the floor above. Maybe on the floor below. Maybe the fire wasn't even in this building.

Videl turned a corner. Paused to get her bearings. The layout of this hospital - it was a little different from the one in Satan City. Similar but different. Still. There was enough of a resemblance that... Another turn. A short hallway. A hidden door.

Well. Usually.

The security room door wasn't hidden behind a large painting or anything like that. No. This door just happened to blend in with the wall. It was painted the same color as the wall and lacked a visible handle. This was a door that had been designed so that people could walk past it every day without actually noticing it. Usually. Because usually, this door was closed.

Videl skidded into a defensive stance. The remains of the security room door lay strewn across the hallway. _No!_

Someone else had beat her here! Someone else must be after the tape! The tape that showed Bulma visiting her father, right before Dr. Briefs died. That had to be it. The hospital would have given a copy of the tape to the police - for evidence - but the original recording... Videl swore. She'd wanted to watch the original tape.

Videl checked the world of ki. There was only one energy signature in the security room. Nervous but not too strong. Well then. Time to teach the intruder some manners. Videl flew forward. As soon as she had entered the room, the outline of the creature became visible. It was human. An adult. With its back to her. Brain on autopilot, Videl aimed a punch. She started to say that this was a citizens arrest.

The person - a woman - spun around and leveled a gun at her. Videl was stunned. She'd had guns pointed at her before. Many times. But it wasn't an experience that Videl had gotten used to. And even though Videl felt pretty certain that all her training had left her bulletproof... It wasn't something she cared to test. Bullets still frightened her.

Without even the slightest hesitation, Videl accelerated. She sped forward, snatched the womans wrist and twisted it. Backwards. Hard. With one hand. Videl reached out with her other hand and ripped the gun away. She kept hold of the womans wrist. Took a moment to recover from the surprise of recognition.

"Bulma Briefs, I presume?" Videl finally announced. Because that's who it was. And that made enough sense, in its own way.

"I don't know who the hell you are." Bulma said. "And I don't care. I have a bomb. If you'd like to keep living then..."

"There isn't really a fire, is there?" Videl cut in.

"It could be arranged."

"Been a rough day, hrm?" Videl had learned that making small talk was a great way to stall people. Because rather a lot of the people who were desperate enough to commit crimes... They just wanted attention. Just wanted to be heard. So when Bulma didn't dignify the 'rough day' remark with an answer, Videl continued. "Look. Would you believe that I'm on your side?"

Bulma scowled. "No."

"All right. So maybe I'm not on your side. Not exactly." Videl considered doing introductions. She had met Bulma once or twice before - years ago. It was clear that Bulma didn't remember her. And actually... Maybe that was for the best. For now. "But I am on the Great Saiyamans side. Close enough?"

"If I say yes then will you let go of my wrist?"

Videl shook her head. "Sorry. That's not how it works. You've pointed a gun at me. You've also claimed to have a bomb. You've even threatened to set this place on fire. That leaves you with zero trust, understand? Why should I let you go? How do I know that you're not still dangerous?"

Instead of replying, Bulma attempted to kick Videl in the stomach. Videl dodged the attack then stepped forward and pushed against Bulmas shoulder. Not even very hard. The kick had left Bulma off balance. It didn't take much to knock Bulma to the ground.

Cursing and full of anger, Bulma started to stand up. Then she noticed the gun. The gun that Videl had taken away earlier. The gun that Videl was now pointing directly at Bulmas head.

"I'd hate to have to use this, you know." said Videl and she meant it. She hated guns. But she could work with them, if she had to. "So why don't you just stand up very slowly and keep your hands where I can see them, hrm?"

Bulma was not following instructions. She simply stared at the weapon in disbelief. Words finally caught up to her. She cast a sideways glance at the security monitors and storage units. "The tape..."

"Which one is it?" Videl asked. "If you know, then get it quickly. If you don't - we'll have to take the whole batch."

* * *

Dragons aged at their own pace. Nobody on Earth was certain of what the average dragon lifespan was because nobody on Earth had ever outlived a dragon. Which was strange. Because dragons were just as susceptible as other creatures. In theory, it wouldn't take much. Change of air quality, loss of habitat or a misguided myth - and poof. No more dragons.

That's what had happened to the griffins. According to the history books, once there had been griffins all over the place. But then the ancient lore of mountain villagers had made it into mainstream media. Hence the griffin had been hunted to extinction by people seeking cures for virtually every disease known to man. Powdered griffin claw to heal scars. Broiled griffin tail to cure muscle disorders. A shot of griffin blood to fight cancer. For all of these and more, the griffins had died. In vain. The only piece of lore that had proven accurate was the recipe for griffin fang soup, which could strengthen the immune system.

Gohan studied the dragon that sat by his feet. Keenly aware of the popular legends. Dragon horns... Claws... Bones... Wings... Every single piece of the dragon was supposed to be able to cure at least twenty different things. Without a doubt, the dragon was by far the most prized creature on the planet. Even a single scale could sell for a fortune. And the fact that it was illegal to hunt dragons or sell any part of them only drove the prices up. And the fact that dragons lived in groups...

Had saved them. Griffins had been solitary. Thus it had been fairly simple for greedy hunters to isolate and subdue the creatures. However only the bravest and most ambitious of poachers was willing to challenge a clan of dragons. And so far, the dragons were undefeated.

Gohan smiled. Icarus was the same as ever. Small and purple with a pair of leathery gray wings sprouting from the back of his shoulders and a pair of short ivory horns sprouting from either side of his skull. A double ridge of vertical triangular scales ran down the middle of his back and tail. Yellowing ivory claws. Dark green eyes.

Sometimes Gohan wondered if the little fire dragon still recognized him. Because while Icarus hadn't changed since the day they met... They'd met twenty-four years ago. So Gohan had changed considerably.

Wisps of smoke escaped the dragons nostrils. Icarus did the dragon equivalent of grumbling while kneading the ground into dust with his claws. He growled, showing a glimpse of teeth and flames, then thumped his tail for emphasis.

The reply was a low-pitched snuffle followed by some elaborate wing stretches. The only reason Gohan was aware of these wing movements was because he happened to be sitting in the shade of one of the giant wings. When this wing moved, it took the shade with it and created a breeze.

Twenty-four years ago... Aliens had set fire to a forest. Gohan had been camping out with some friends of his father. They'd managed to put out the fire, defeat the aliens and reverse the damage to the landscape. Eventually. But not before Gohan had crossed paths with and saved a small wild purple dragon. Being four years old, Gohan hadn't realized that dragons were social creatures. So he'd named the dragon Icarus and had taken Icarus home. Gohans mother had protested the idea of keeping a wild dragon as a pet. And, a couple days later - in an incident that had nearly destroyed the Son House - so had Icarus's mother.

It was hard to imagine that one day, in the distant future, Icarus was going to be seven tons of airborne fire-breathing muscle.

Initially, for lack of inspiration, Gohan had labeled the elder dragon as Icarus's Mother. And, over time, he'd given similar titles to other dragons in the same clan. It was Pan who had insisted that _all_ the wild dragons deserved proper names.

Pan was curled up in his lap now, her head against his shoulder. Asleep. Finally. While she wasn't a match for her father in the strength department, Gohan was convinced that Pan had him beat when it came to endurance. Perhaps this was normal for a child. Or... Perhaps it wasn't normal, not even for someone of partial Saiyan heritage. Gohan didn't remember ever being so energetic. And Pan was only five years old. And this didn't seem to be a phase she would grow out of. Her endurance was always improving. Every time they played tag, it took a little longer for Pan to get tired.

Maybe Buu had something to do with that. Indirectly. Because Buu wasn't human. And Buu had spent five million years inactive. So Buu didn't like to be inactive these days. Apparently Buu only required around thirty seconds of sleep per week. Hanging out with Buu so much - it had to be affecting Pan.

_"Now you know how I feel."_ Gohan could almost hear his mothers voice. And much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

ChiChi still held some fairly serious grudges. She didn't hate certain people - or rather, certain Nameks - as much anymore but she couldn't forgive the way they had treated her. At the age of four, Gohan had been taken away for training. ChiChi had always viewed this as personal insult. Nobody had ever said: _"Hey ChiChi - we think a hostile green demon could do a better job of parenting than you've done. Just because he's stronger than you. So we gave your kid to him. Oh and by the way, your husband is dead. The green demon killed him."_ But that's more or less how ChiChi had understood the situation. Which was why she still called Piccolo a demon. And it was also why, in Gohans presence, ChiChi took every possible opportunity to say things like: _"Oh let Pan go play with Buu for a while. I'm sure she'll be fine. After all - look at how my eldest son turned out. And he was raised by a demon!"_

_Except that Piccolo never obliterated the planet._ Gohan sighed. The hardest part of being one of the only people on Earth who remembered what had happened ten years ago... Was having to accept the fact that the most evil and dangerous monster in existence had now become his childs best friend. Being replaced by a pink blob was difficult enough. But to be replaced by a pink blob that had murdered everyone and destroyed the Earth...

Buu wasn't evil anymore. That's what Gohan had to keep reminding himself. He shouldn't worry so much about it. There were other things to worry about.

School was currently at the top of that list. He had to go to school tomorrow. Gohan didn't really feel like going to school but this was college. He was _paying_ to take these classes so he thought that he might as well attend them. No point in getting behind on the homework assignments either. And the classes that he taught... If he were to call in sick, on such short notice - his employers wouldn't like that. Someone might even think it was suspicious. Because Gohan had never actually called in sick before. He'd always planned his vacations. He was in the habit of giving the university at least a weeks notice.

And speaking of habits... Crime fighting.

If someone decided to rob a bank tomorrow, should they just be allowed get away with it? If the Great Saiyaman made an appearance to save the day... Would anyone try to arrest him? Or would his continued good deeds help to clear his name and prove his innocence? If he stopped fighting crime - wouldn't _that_ be _more_ suspicious?

This chain of speculation was ended by the dragons. Twilight ruffled her wings and began moving, calling the rest of the clan to her. Icarus chirped and followed in her wake. Twilight was the name that Pan had given to the dragon that was Icarus's Mother. Her scales were a deep purple and flecked with silver. Her wings, horns and claws were pitch black. Against the darkening sky, Twilight was nearly invisible. She padded to the edge of the ravine and tested the air currents. With surprising agility and minimum noise, the dragons departed. Gliding on the winds. Off for another night of hunting.

Because they were fire-breathing dragons, the clan gave off a lot of body heat. So the absence of the dragons made the ledge a much colder place to be.

_Should get home._ Gohan lifted his daughter, careful not to wake her, and stood. Home seemed like such a good idea. There was comfort in being surrounded by familiar objects. Comfort in routines. He could get ready for his morning classes and go to bed and wake up tomorrow, as if nothing unusual had happened today. And maybe Videl would be home. Maybe she had found a solution to all the madness. Maybe life could get back to normal. Well. As normal as it had ever been, anyway. Which, in Gohans case, wasn't an entirely optimistic sentiment.

* * *

Obvious? Or too obvious? That was the question. Would Trunks expect to be followed? What if Trunks _wanted_ to be followed? What if this was some kind of trap? On the other hand, what if Trunks honestly didn't care if he was followed? He'd always been sort of arrogant.

Goten hated to be in the same city as Trunks. In fact, there were moments when Goten hated to be on the same planet as Trunks. But under current circumstances, Trunks was the best lead they had.

_He's probably getting a kick out of this._ Goten thought grumpily. _Probably thinks it's funny._

If only ki detection were enough. But no, being able to detect someone and being able to see what that someone was actually doing - those were two separate things. So it wasn't enough just to sense the energy and know where Trunks was. No. Goten had to keep the red aircar in sight. Had to watch for any suspicious activity. Maybe Trunks would pick up a passenger or drop off a package or something. Or maybe not. That was probably too cliché.

_Bet he expects me to give up._ The bitterness stung, as did the truths behind it. But Goten smirked. _Hmph. Fine then._

Goten lowered his energy level. Because while Trunks hadn't looked at him or spoken to him... It would actually take some effort, for anyone trained to detect energy signatures, to completely ignore Gotens ki.

As soon as Goten dropped back, there was a reaction. The red aircar slowed down. Which confirmed, in Gotens mind, the fact that Trunks knew he was being followed. _Wait for it..._ Once more, Goten lowered his ki. He wanted Trunks to believe that he had given up and was flying away. Because then maybe Trunks would go somewhere useful instead of just driving around in circles.

The temptation to blast the aircar out of the sky was tremendous. Goten indulged in a daydream. He envisioned the luxury aircar as a shiny metallic fireball, crashing into the asphalt below. No survivors. Gotens smirk widened. _What a shame._

He refocused on the aircar, watching as it pulled into a smooth turn on a familiar route. Still circling. Reality was almost as good the daydream. Because...

Goten stopped smirking. He shook his head. Deep down, the idea of fairness had been given a high place in his heart. Goten disliked Trunks. Severely. So severely that Goten no longer felt that Trunks was truly deserving of anything good. Certainly not deserving of fairness. Which might have been okay, on a regular basis. But this was a murder investigation. It wasn't fair - or smart or safe - to automatically assume things. It was going to take facts and evidence, not personal biases, to answer the questions created by Dr. Briefs sudden death.

Painful memories reeled across Gotens mind. Ten years ago... Goten didn't remember much of what had happened ten years ago. He didn't remember Buu being evil or the world being endangered. He didn't remember death. Ten years ago - Goten had been age seven. He could recall how awkward it had been to meet his father for the very first time. Goten knew that he'd been excited about something and then terrified about something else. He knew that he had fought for some reason, although he didn't remember why. And then... Trunks. Really, that was the clearest memory Goten had. Because it wasn't every day that your self-proclaimed best friend tried to kill you.

And the worst part was that Goten had almost believed that he'd deserved it.

Imagine, for a moment, that a persons ego and emotional stability can be represented by a delicate glass vase. Having a superhero for an older brother and a world-saving father had, over time, put several chips and scratches in Gotens confidence. But Trunks... Had shattered the vase. Completely and utterly and without a hint of remorse.

When the damage is so thorough, ten years is not always enough time to fully heal. Goten was still recovering.

Goten shuddered and landed on a rooftop. Knowing that he couldn't trust himself to be neutral on this subject. Regardless of what Trunks may or may not have done recently - as far as Goten was concerned, Trunks would always be guilty.

Perhaps it would be wise, to investigate elsewhere. Yet as the red aircar slipped from his line of sight... Goten felt as if he'd failed. He'd wanted to help investigate. He was trying to earn his brothers trust. Trying to make his family proud. Trying to prove that he was capable of being a hero too. And already... He'd failed. Because what good was he going to be to anyone if his personal grudges kept him from doing the work that needed to be done?

Evidence. That would help, Goten decided. If he was ever going to overcome the twists that life had thrown him then he had to get his act together. Evidence would be the first priority. There wasn't any point in following someone around when you didn't even know if they were innocent or guilty. No point in confronting a person when you weren't even sure what to ask. Just wandering up and accusing someone of murder would be useless. Only the most ruthless and bold of criminals would openly admit to such a crime. Evidence would be everything in a case like this. But where to begin searching? Videl was famous. Videl had a private detectives badge. Without Videl, Goten doubted that he would be allowed to enter -

"Must be the air." Someone remarked, abruptly ending Gotens train of thought. The voice that had spoken was soft and gruff at the same time. The owner of the voice was hovering beside the rooftop where Goten had landed. And the energy signature of the owner...

Inwardly, Goten flinched. He's always found it rather disturbing that a human child could have so much ki. Even moreso that a human child with so much ki could sneak up on him. "Er. Hey, Uub."

"_Namaste_ Goten." Uub replied, using a traditional island greeting. "Didn't expect to see you here." Uub said without looking up. While his tone was casual, his expression was concentrated as he studied all the various ledges and windowsills of the buildings in the area. He wore faded jeans, a cloth jacket and wooden sandals. A bamboo fishing pole was strapped diagonally across his back, a dagger hung from his belt and a hawks talon served as the pendant on his beaded necklace.

"Ditto." Goten muttered. He wasn't sure what to make of the spear Uub carried. The long wooden haft was covered in carvings and the sharpened stone point had been dyed red. Such a simple, fragile weapon - yet it seemed to have an aura of its own. "So. What brings you to the city? Is everything all right at the village?"

Uub snorted. "It will be now. They kicked me out."

"WHA-?"

"_Last_ time Goku-sensei was upset with me, he ambushed me. To force me to fight. In the middle of the village." Uub explained, sounding weary. "It took me a _whole week_ to repair the damage. And Elder Rita is _still_ on crutches. So now that I've managed to upset Goku-sensei again - and he must be really mad at me because he just vanished without even... "

"You've been kicked out of your own village!" Goten was outraged.

"Right." Uub sighed, glancing up for the first time since the conversation began. "I haven't detected Goku-sensei for a while now. He wouldn't try to ambush me in a city, would he?"

"I don't think so." Goten frowned. "He'd better not."

Silence.

"Hey... If you can't go home... " Goten began. Despite the fact that Uubs energy signature was fairly intimating, the simple truth of the matter was that Uub was ten years old. And even with the spear and the dagger and the dark spiky mohawk and all the rest - that's how Uub looked. Like a ten year old human boy. "I mean... You're not staying out here, are you?"

Uub shrugged in a way that said what-else-can-I-do?

Bewilderment tainted Gotens voice. "So just because my father is upset, you are going to sleep in the streets of a strange city?"

"Roofs." Uub corrected quietly. "I'd rather sleep on the roofs. Less crowded." He hefted his spear and frowned at the empty ledges and windowsills. "Better hunting as well. Not here though. Must be the air. Too much traffic."

_Hunting?_ Goten looked to the spear with new understanding. "Don't trust the city food, huh?"

"Don't eat what you can't identify." Uub managed a weak smile. "Village proverb."

Silence.

Hunting food for survival struck Goten as a tad insane. In part because he'd never had to do it. But mostly because there were so many alternatives available. The city was full of grocery stores and restaurants. The mere idea of just eating whatever wild creatures could be found crawling around on buildings... Didn't most of the animals in the city - the feral dogs and cats and whatever else - didn't those animals eat trash and roadkill? What if those animals had diseases? And how could Uub be expected to cook, without accidentally setting a building on fire?

In Gotens mind, nobody deserved this kind of punishment.

There were times when Goten began to understand what it might be like to have a younger brother. The sort of younger brother who needed to be protected every now and then. Why and how Goku had apparently become upset with Uub - that didn't matter. What mattered was that Uub needed a place to stay and something safe to eat.

"We are going to a restaurant." Goten announced. "I will personally identify everything for you, okay?"

"Ah. Thanks for the offer but..." Uub stammered. On the one hand, he was hungry and the urban hunting situation wasn't good. On the other hand, he didn't like to ask favors or accept charity.

"No excuses. It's no trouble and you don't have to pay me back." Goten said flatly, taking Uub by the arm and dragging him along. "Anyone who puts up with my father doesn't owe my family anything. Got it?"

"Ahhhh..." Uub remained reluctant as they started to descend to street level. The city made him uncomfortable. Or rather, the people in the city made him uncomfortable. Uub _knew_ what an aircar was but nobody in his tiny farming village - heck, nobody on his island - owned a vehicle, so he didn't understand the appeal. And the way these city people dressed and talked and _everything_. It was all so different. Uub felt distinctly out of place. He scrambled for an excuse to stay on the roof.

The excuse found him.

"Oh." Uub stiffened and faced south. "There."

At that moment, everyone on Earth capable of detecting ki noticed that Goku was once again on the planet. And everyone on Earth who knew Goku well enough to recognize his energy signature was also able to get a feeling for Gokus current mood. And Goku was not happy.

"I... I should go apologize." Uub whispered, trying to sound brave. "Maybe if I apologize he won't ambush me. Then I could go home."

Goten refused to release his hold on Uubs arm. Anyone other than Uub might have had a broken arm by now. "I don't think he's mad at you, Uub." Goten said eventually, resuming their descent. "We can talk to him later. You need to get something to eat first."

* * *

Goku was not happy.

It should have been simple. That was the problem. Granted, not much in Gokus life was simple. But this... He had teleported into the afterlife to ask some questions. How hard could it be, to just ask some questions? And the afterlife - the gods and demons and spirits - it was so logical. So sensible. If you had to locate the soul of a deceased person... Then the afterlife was a reasonable place to seek answers, wasn't it?

But no. The first obstacle had been the afterlife clerks, the office demons. Goku had died twice before. So upon arriving in the afterlife, the office demons had immediately assumed that Goku was dead again. He'd spent at least half an hour trying - in vain, for the most part - to convince the demons that he was not dead but alive and in need of some otherworldly advice. When the office demons had finally taken the hint - they had seemed strangely disappointed that Goku wasn't dead and Goku wasn't quite sure how to feel about that - Goku had been sent to see Lord Enma.

Lord Enma was the giant judge of souls. It was Lord Enma who decided whether a creatures spirit got sent to heaven or hell or had a chance to reincarnate. So Lord Enma - he was great at announcing judgments and giving orders but he wasn't accustomed to having conversations. All this on top of being chronically overworked and grumpy... No, the meeting hadn't gone well. Goku hadn't been in the mood to pacify and reason with Lord Enmas temper. So no questions had been answered. And, since insulting Lord Enma was a punishable offense, both Goku and Vegeta had been sent to...

_... oh crud ..._

Goku skidded to a stop in midair. Realizing for the first time since his return to Earth that he had accidentally left Vegeta in the afterlife. Which Vegeta would never believe - not the accidentally part, anyway.

But... Eh. Perhaps it was just as well. Vegeta wasn't precisely sociable and Goku wasn't in a good mood. In the past, they could have sparred to settle their differences. But these days... There was too much risk. In most battles... Goku had control, he could concentrate and focus and keep his aura at levels that were safe. But against another Saiyan... The risk of getting carried away... It just wasn't good. These days, a spar against Vegeta could have only one of three possible outcomes. Earth destroyed. Vegeta dead. Or Goku self-destructed - which would probably cause the Earth and everything on it some grief.

The last possibility made Goku shudder. Control was such a fine-tuned skill that no amount of practice would ever seem good enough. And what if...

No. Goku didn't want to think about it. He knew that he was getting older and that as he aged the control would gradually slip. There was nothing he could do about it. Goku knew that it was his own fault for training so much, getting so strong. The power had been so much easier to control back when he'd had so much less of it. Now that his hard-won aura was so immense... It would be a guaranteed disaster, when his control slipped.

Trust North Kaio to have joked about the possibility.

After escaping from Lord Enmas punishment, Goku had not returned straight to Earth. Instead Goku had visited and argued with the blue immortal. North Kaio - who liked to be called the King Kaio, for some private and unexplained reason which would be unlikely to endear him to the various other immortal guardians of the universe - had not been eager to help. At first, North Kaio had pointed out that he was the guardian of a whole quarter of the galaxy. So why should he be bothered with a simple insignificant issue on Earth? Go figure. When the gods had been endangered, they had contacted Goku on Earth in person. Yet when Goku needed help, it was suddenly red tape and divine rank pulling.

But North Kaio had been a friend and teacher once. Thus after the initial - almost ritual - stubbornness was dealt with, Goku was given the answers he sought.

The news had not been good.

Goku refocused on the sprawl of the land below. The shimmer and glint of starlight on water in the midst of a desert. The shape of two dark pyramids on the horizon ahead.

North Kaio had not been able to detect, let alone locate, Dr. Briefs soul in the afterlife. And if Dr. Briefs soul was not in the afterlife... Then perhaps the mans spirit was still on Earth. North Kaio wasn't sure. But there was someone else who would know...

Goku angled his flight downward so that his aura could better light his path. He was following a crease - a trail - that had been worn into the ground by more than five hundred years of heavy use. Ahead, the pyramids loomed in dark silence. Palm trees bent in the wind as if bowing to greet him. Behind, in the distance, the haunting silhouette of Korins Tower - the bottom of the immense structure lost in shadow and the top if it lost in clouds - stood at attention. Goku felt watched, as if a thousand years of existing had made the ancient tower sentient. But perhaps it was just Korin...

Or perhaps the stare was not from behind, but from ahead. Perhaps...

Goku saw that the path remained clear. Usually there would be a long line of people here. He saw that torches were lit around the base of each pyramid. Bright lanterns outlined the small palace and fighting arena that sat, in defiance of physics, on the surface of the lake between the pyramids. He saw, framed in the unnatural soft blue light that seemed to be coming from within the pyramids themselves, the figure.

Ah. So he _was_ expected.

"Baba!" Goku had never been terribly formal. So as soon as he was within earshot of the oasis, he addressed the most feared witch on Earth as if she were a mere causal acquaintance. "Do you know if - "

The figure was small and hovering at least six feet off the ground. Pitch black robes over fading yellow skin, short red hair hidden beneath the wide brim of a pointy black hat. A crystal orb rotated under her feet. "Boy." Uranai Baba scolded, the disrespect in her voice reminding him that she could, on a whim, turn him into small furry animal of some sort. Or worse. Because she didn't like it when people disrupted her business or forgot to respect their elders or even - and this was the worst - questioned her psychic abilities. All of which Goku had, inadvertently, just done. "What I _know_ and what I _choose to tell you_ are two different things."

Typically Goku would have had enough sense to just back down. But... Well. It had been long day and not a good one. The arguments with first the office demons, then Lord Enma and then North Kaio... Goku was not about to let anyone mortal - even though the term _mortal_ could only loosely be applied to Uranai Baba - get the better of him after what he'd survived in the afterlife.

Before he could issue any kind of verbal threat or challenge, however, Uranai Baba glared at him. Her hands were folded but the magic on her fingertips glowed with a rainbow of colors. Making it clear that not only had she expected Goku, she had expected his bad mood. "Don't tempt me." The witch uttered, the brim of her hat obscuring the expression on her face.

Goku had seen plenty of magic in his time but he was a martial artist, not a magician. He had no idea what sort of spell was aimed at him and he didn't particularly care to find out. It had been his experience that magic was much harder to dodge than any fighting attack. "Fine." Once Goku realized how ridiculous the situation was, it was easier for him to calm down. "But listen, I need to know if - "

"No." The witch interrupted, lifting her head to show that her usual - if somewhat frightening - grin had returned to her features. Uranai Baba met his stare. "_You listen_ and listen carefully. You can not afford my services."

Uranai Baba was both famous and infamous. Her talents for spellcasting, predicting the future and wandering off to the afterlife and other dimensions were unrivaled. And so were her nine-digit fees. Which - she was right - Goku could not afford. But that didn't discourage him. In truth, Goku was almost relieved. Because the last time that he'd needed the witchs help... Ten years ago... Well. Anytime that the world was endangered, Uranai Baba tended to forget about her fee. She had never even tried to charge Goku for the help that she had provided against Buu. So if the witch was talking about fees now then perhaps the world was not threatened.

And besides, there was another way to earn Uranai Babas help. If he fought and defeated her guards then...

"You can _not_ afford my services." Uranai Baba repeated slowly, as if waiting for Goku to catch on to everything she implied. "And neither can Vegeta."

_Wait a sec..._ Goku began to see the double meaning in what the witch had said. But... _A warning?_

What could she be warning him about? And why not just flat out warn him, why the riddles? And... HEY! She was wrong! Vegeta could, probably, afford to pay... Well. Maybe not Vegeta. But Bulma could afford to pay Uranai Babas fee. Because the Briefs were rich and...

A sudden snag in Gokus thoughts. The witch smirked. A whole slew of new 'what-ifs' assaulted his mind. The money! Goku hadn't given it a moments consideration - money had never been all that important to him. But now... Goku wondered. How much had Dr. Briefs been worth? Had it been enough to kill for? And if Bulma was arrested, would she still inherit her families wealth? And what if -

On the verge of wanting to scream, Goku settled for a scowl and kicked the new concerns away. He wanted to know where Dr. Briefs soul was. He wanted to know where Vegetas daughter was. He wanted to know what had happened to the gravity chamber and if anything else had been taken from Capsule Corp. Goku began to voice these concerns but the witch waved her hands dismissively before he'd even made a sound.

"I suppose," Uranai Baba murmured as she turned her back on him. "That if you _must_ have my advice... You could ask that short friend of yours, the one who resides with my brother on Kame Island. You could ask him to pay the fee. He can afford it. Although - " She paused and made a show of inspecting her fingernails, which were no longer glowing. " - he may soon need my skills far more than you do."

A flourish of magic and the witch was gone, the conversion ended.

High above the oasis, a frustrated scream rocked the night sky. A golden streak wheeled in the air with such force that even the pyramids shook. The sand was still settling, long after the streak had departed in the direction of Kame Island.

* * *


	7. Act 6

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 6**

Nervous was an understatement. Videl had already worn a visible tread in the carpet. If she kept pacing... At this rate, she'd soon wear a hole in the carpet. And then perhaps she'd wear a rut through the floor. But the whole situation made her nervous. So she kept pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. Treading in a neat straight line with stiff steps.

How many illegal things had she done today? Too many. Inwardly, Videl sighed. At moments like these, she considered changing her career. Because even though she enjoyed most aspects of detective work... Videl doubted that she was setting a good example for her daughter.

And that wasn't even the main reason that she was nervous. No, Videl was anxious because she didn't feel as if she had proper control of the situation anymore. To sum the day up... Dr. Briefs was dead. His wife, Mrs. Victoria Briefs, was also dead and the cause of her death remained unknown. His daughter, Bulma Briefs, was alive. For now. But how long would that last? Bulma had already been arrested once. She had escaped from a jail somewhere in West Capital City. The police had announced a sizable reward for Bulmas capture - alive. However since her escape Bulma had broken into a hospital, had pulled the hospitals fire alarm just to create a distraction AND had stolen the complete set of security records - as well as a few medical records - from the facility. So now... As soon as the local police figured out the latest streak of crimes... The reward for Bulmas capture would probably increase. And the terms would likely change from 'wanted alive' to 'dead or alive'.

Hard not to feel a bit edgy, all things considered. Because what if the police figured out where they were? What if a bounty hunter had followed them? What if Bulma HAD actually murdered both of her parents? Videl just wasn't sure where she stood in all this mess. Where should she go? Who should she trust? Videl had no way to gauge how much immediate danger she might be in.

She didn't like being here, though. Videl glanced at her surroundings with distaste. A tiny room - or vault, rather - about the width of two elevators and with slightly less charm. Steel walls and square-ish and probably soundproofed. No windows. Thick carpet. And the door... Well. Technically, they hadn't broken in. Capsule Corporation owned this little storage unit. Which was part of why Videl hated to be here. What if some employee of Capsule Corp happened to stop by? What if someone realized that Bulma might decide to hide out at the lesser-known properties owned by the company? What if they had set off an alarm? What if there were hidden cameras in this room? What if someone had already seen them and called the police and...

"Idiots." Bulma sneered. A large wooden desk occupied most of the small room and somewhere amid the clutter on the desktop, Bulma had found a radio. She was listening to the police bulletins. "I'm worth more than that." Bulma said as she sifted through the stack of illegally-obtained security tapes from Lotus Medical Center. She exhaled a stream of smoke then held her cigarette between two fingers while she attempted to suppress a coughing fit. "Hmf." A tinge of perpetual superiority hardened Bulmas gaze. Videl still had the gun - but Bulma seemed to know that, for the moment, she was calling the shots. "If that's all they're going offer, I can match the reward with pocket change."

Videl was not impressed. "Really?" Still pacing, she frowned her disapproval. It had taken all of two seconds for Videl to realize that Bulma was not, to put it mildly, her kind of person. "Out of curiosity, just how much are you worth these days?"

"More than you will ever be." Bulma replied without hesitation, indicating that she'd probably used this line many times before.

Videls eyes sparked with anger at the insult. "Not if I pull this trigger." She grumbled in withering tones.

"Aw. Is someone jealous?" Bulma managed an eerie smirk to compliment her smug tone. "What a shame." And with that, Bulma pressed a button.

Having no windows and only one lamp, the room had been poorly lit to begin with. But now something was hissing... And the room was filling with haze. Videls immediate reaction was to cover her nose and mouth with her hands - a feat that required dropping the gun. She squinted, her eyes watering and tried to see her way clearly to the door.

The door slammed shut in Videls face. Bulma could be heard laughing on the other side. The older womans voice sounded distant at first but then she seemed to lean closer. "I don't know who the hell you are." Bulma confided in a half-shout. "But you aren't going to cause me anymore trouble!"

_Wrong._ Videl thought. She refused to die like this. Her aura flashed into place around her.

Abruptly something in the haze sizzled. The heat generated by Videls aura reacted with the chemicals in the air. Videl noticed. Too late to undo the changes. Too late to power down and hope that nothing would happen. The reaction was already underway. So Videl threw her aura outward, hoping to create a wide buffer zone to shield her from the pending explosion. And of course by expanding her aura, she increased the speed and intensity of the reaction. What could have been a moderate blast, grew.

An explosive minute later, Videl emerged from a cloud of smoke and dust. She was hacking and wheezing and had blurred vision but otherwise seemed fine. At least, that's what Videl thought. She knew that she probably looked awful but she didn't know the extent of it. She couldn't see very well at the moment and maintaining her defensive aura had numbed her. Hence Videl didn't notice the bruises, burns and multiple scratches that she'd earned from fragments of debris. Her entire body ached and her eyes stung but that was all the pain she registered.

Videl was still standing. And the room was gone. So she wobbled over to Bulma - who was now unconscious on the cement - and squatted down. Videl reached out and gingerly removed the packet of cigarettes from a pocket of Bulmas jacket. Inside the box, next to the cigarettes, was a capsule. Videl had suspected as much. Bulma must have slipped the capsule into her pocket sometime during their conversation. Which meant that this... This capsule had to be the one that contained the evidence she needed.

Exhaustion. Thirst. Suddenly it was quite a challenge to think straight. Videl shook her head. She couldn't go home - home was too far away now. And besides, there was work to be done. But... She was just so tired.

Tired enough, in fact, that Videl didn't even notice a rather large energy signature until the owner of that energy signature was right beside her. A tap on her shoulder and the world went dark.

* * *

Again. There. Goten leaned on the table, one hand under his chin, and watched. West Capital City was full of restaurants and cafes and grocery stores - but most of those businesses had closed for the evening. And with Uub being only ten years old... They couldn't go searching for a meal at any of the various local taverns or clubs. So they had settled for a humble deli. And while Uub was quizzing all the employees - because Uub refused to eat anything that the employees couldn't identify for him - Goten sat at one of the tables, staring out a window.

There. Again. That had to be at least the tenth time...

A police car drove past outside, cruising along at a slow speed that made it possible to see that the officers in the car stared towards the deli as they went by. And then, a few minutes later, a police car would cruise down the other side of the street. So... Was it just one police car, driving up and down the avenue? Or was it two different vehicles, circling the block?

And why were the police so interested in the deli? Were the officers just hungry? Or were they after Uub?

Goten suspected that it was probably the latter. Businesses generally didn't appreciate customers who carried spears. And in a modern city like this... People would take one look at Uub - with his casual clothes and his tribal weapons and his mohawk of hair - and they'd decide that he was trouble. So maybe the police would try to confiscate Uubs spear and dagger. Maybe the police wanted to arrest Uub for appearing to be a gang member. If the officers learned of Uubs age... Then they might even try to arrest Uub for breaking curfew laws.

_Wonderful._ Goten thought sarcastically.

Goten considered his options. He could just sneak out. If Uub got arrested then it would give Goten a valid excuse to raid a West Capital City police station. But... Uub had already had a rough day. And Uub was in the habit of carrying grudges. And there was no guarantee that the police station would have any useful evidence anyway. So Goten chose to remain at the deli. He sat and watched and waited. He made a mental inventory of all the doors and windows. Which was sort of pointless, he supposed, because if he really had to escape then he could just exit through a wall or ceiling.

However this was a city. Very few of the buildings were single level. Going out through a wall or ceiling might weaken the structural integrity of the entire place. What if a piece of the building collapsed? What if innocent people got hurt? What if...

"This seat taken?"

Goten nearly fell out of his chair. But he recovered his composure quickly and focused on the person who had spoken. Without waiting for a reply, the stranger sat down at Gotens table.

The stranger was an older man. Not ancient but he had to be in his mid-thirties, at least. The majority of the strangers face was hidden by a baseball cap and an oversized pair of dark tinted sunglasses. His pitch black hair had a few streaks of gray and was tied back into a short ponytail. And he seemed to deliberately wear clothes a size too big for him, to disguise his features. Or maybe he was carrying a concealed weapon?

Could this be an undercover agent for the police? Didn't agents have to dress better? And what kind of person would actually wear dark sunglasses at night? It was hard to feel threatened by anyone who was probably rendered half blind by their choice in eyewear.

The man looked out the window and seemed to watch the police cars - now there was clearly more than one vehicle out there - go past. Then he turned and Goten spent a moment staring at his own reflection in the surface of the sunglasses. "So what brings you out here?" The man asked. "Don'tcha have school tomorrow? Or have you graduated already?"

Goten winced. He DID have school tomorrow. It wasn't a wholly pleasant thing to be reminded of because he hadn't finished all of his homework today. Plus there was an early club meeting in the morning and... Goten blinked. His thoughts of school didn't last long. Because he had noticed the edge of a very thin, very dark red line on the older mans face. It was so faint... And the sunglasses were so ridiculously distracting... That Goten had to concentrate to make out the rest of the scar.

The vaguest hints of recognition must have crept into Gotens expression. Because the man chuckled and nodded, returning his attention to the window. "Yea. It's been a while. Nobody visits anymore. Guess we've all been busy."

Silence.

Eventually the man lifted his sunglasses slightly. While his voice was soft and calm and laced with humor, his eyes held an expression that brimmed with concern. "The world's not endangered again, is it?"

Goten smiled and relaxed a little, his suspicions confirmed. "Nah. Not as far as I know, Yamucha-san."

The man shook his head and let his sunglasses conceal his eyes again. "You don't have to use the -san." He muttered, leaning back in his chair.

Silence. Outside, the police cars cruised down the avenue. Then one car pulled up to the curb and parked. And then another police car parked behind it. And then a police aircar landed nearby.

Goten stood and began to move towards the service counter. At the same instant, Yamucha stretched and stood.

They both hesitated. Without words, it became clear that they had each assumed that they were the target of the police. And while neither of the warriors were afraid of the police... The deli was not a good place to fight. Too small. Too cluttered. Too much risk of innocents getting hurt.

"What is going on?" Uub had stopped arguing with the deli employees a while ago. Goodness only knew how long he'd been standing there, leaning against a wall and quietly observing the situation. While Uub respected the fact that Goten hadn't attacked... And while he realized that Yamucha had more energy than the average person... Uub preferred to be cautious. Especially of city folk. So he leaned the tip of his spear in Yamuchas direction. "And who is this?"

"Introductions later." Goten cut in. "Come on. I can't afford to have this place rebuilt."

* * *

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. And the precise definition of 'best friend' is something that every creature alive must decide for themselves. Maybe your best friend is someone that you see each day at school or at work or at the bus stop on the way home. Maybe your best friend is someone that always remembers your birthday. Someone who is willing to call long-distance simply to ask how you are doing. Someone who lets you share the shelter of their umbrella in a rain storm.

Regardless of what you do together, though, there are certain traits that all best friends have in common. A best friend - a real friend - is someone that you can trust. Someone who will tell you the truth when you need to hear it, even if you don't always want to hear it. Someone who will defend your reputation but accept your flaws. Someone who, no matter how many years go by, will always be there for you.

Goku was of the opinion that he didn't really deserve a best friend. Yet he had a best friend, the best that anyone could ever ask for. Kuririn.

They had first met around thirty-two years ago. Goku had been age twelve, Kuririn had barely turned thirteen and they had both wanted martial arts training from Master Roshi. So for eight months, they had trained and sparred together. And that was, really, the extent of it. Because while Kuririn had continued to train at Kame Island... Goku had wandered around the planet, having adventures and defeating criminals and eventually getting trained by the Earthbound immortals. Goku had still seen Kuririn every three years or so - since they both entered the various tournaments held back then - but they hadn't communicated much. And after the 23rd Budoukai... The isolation had grown. Five years here. Seven years there.

And yet no matter how long the gap... No matter how long Goku went missing or remained dead... No matter how ridiculously severe the danger... Kuririn had always managed to keep a good opinion of Goku. And he'd always been willing help. Who else but Kuririn would have traveled to a potentially hostile alien world in an ancient spaceship, just for his friends sake? Who else but Kuririn could have taken it upon himself to help train first Gohan and then Goten during Gokus various absences? Who else but Kuririn would have been willing to fight and, on more than one occasion, die just to buy Goku some time?

To be honest, it made Goku a bit ashamed. Because he felt like he should know Kuririn a little better. But they had only really spent those eight months together. And that had been so long ago. And their main concern back then had been to focus on Master Roshis training. So... Their friendship was - or at least, Gokus end of it seemed - rather shallow. Because Goku didn't know if Kuririn actually had a middle name or a last name. He didn't know anything about Kuririns history or relatives. He hadn't been able to attend Kuririns wedding or any of Kuririns funerals. He wasn't sure if Kuririn had ever held a job. What did Kuririn want to accomplish? Did he have any private ambitions? What did Kuririn hope for in the future? When was Kuririns birthday?

Goku didn't know.

What Goku did realize, as he sped towards Kame Island, was that he didn't really want to disturb his best friend. Kuririn would be willing - not eager, he wasn't eager as much anymore - to help but... What could be done? And hadn't Kuririn done more than enough, already?

Goku had spent a significant part of his childhood growing up alone in the wilderness. So he had gotten rather accustomed to being self-sufficient. Even now, age forty-eight, Goku didn't like having to rely on others. And the people that Goku knew... Yea - they would probably offer to help, if he asked. But they had already done so much. It just wasn't fair, to keep bugging them.

Understand that Goku still firmly believed that pretty much everything bad that had happened to planet Earth during the last four centuries was, somehow, his fault. And so the mere thought of bothering any resident of Earth, who had no doubt suffered from the blight of cruel villains which Goku had eventually defeated... Caused Goku a pang of guilt. Because Goku felt indebted to his friends - to Kuririn in particular, only ChiChi ranked higher in this regard - for all the kindness and patience and courage that they had already shown. Wouldn't it seem ungrateful, to bother them again? And what if, just for once, Kuririn refused to get involved? Nobody could blame him. Everyone had their limits. But...

Even though Goku was, somewhere inside, accustomed to being a loner - he didn't want to risk the rejection. Because the day that his best friend in the world flat out refused to help... Goku couldn't quite imagine. It would signal the end of an era. The end of a valuable friendship, perhaps. And... Maybe when that happened... Maybe it would be time to completely retire, once and for all, from fighting.

Kame Island was a growing dot on the horizon now. A wide lump of sand rising from the calm waters of the east ocean. A roughly circular beach fringed in palm trees. The center of the island was occupied by a two-story house. The wooden house was painted pink on the outside, a color that clashed with the bright red tile of the classic a-frame roof.

Goku hestiated, his heart pounding. There were only a couple other locations on Earth that could arouse such a diverse mix of emotions for him. So many memories... Age twelve, Goku had trained at Kame Island. Age twenty-four, he had been confronted by Raditz at Kame Island.

But now the sky was dark and so was the water. Goku couldn't just stop in, unannounced, at night. Why wake people up? He wasn't even sure what to say. Kame Island was fairly isolated but even the Kame House had a television these day, so Kuririn and everyone there would have heard the world news by now. They wouldn't need anyone to tell them. And... Well. Why should Kuririn care? So Capsule Corporation had hit a bad patch, so what? It wasn't as if Kuririn would know where to find Dr. Briefs soul or Vegetas daughter - right? But then... Why had Uranai Baba...?

"About time you got here."

The voice that had spoken belonged to a figure that hovered just above the waves. A feminine figure with a slightly metallic gleam to her skin and a perpetually glassy tint to her eyes. A feminine figure with absolutely no detectable energy signature.

"Let me guess." Android 18 seemed torn between being amused and being insulted. "You didn't think we'd notice that a Super Saiyan is hovering outside our home? Please. A ki like yours could probably wake the dead."

Gokus typical I-hate-it-when-anything-sneaks-up-on-me reaction was swiftly replaced by mild amazement. He tried not to stare. It was just that... He'd never seen an android in this particular condition before.

"What?" Android 18 frowned. She wore fuzzy pink slippers and mismatched pajamas. Most of her hair was rolled back into curlers but a few pieces had been braided. Her face was covered in a blue-green lotion of some sort. Her fingernails were a glittery shade of purple. "Oh for crimineys sake..." 18 grumbled. "Men." She put a hand on her hip, "In case you've forgotten - I have a thirteen year old daughter. And this is her idea of fun."

"Oh." Goku took a moment to be privately grateful that he'd only ever had sons. "Uhm. So..."

"You're going to have to come inside if you want to speak to anyone else." A wicked smile had brightened 18s features. "Perhaps Marron will even take a look at those hands of yours. Ever had a manicure?"

"Ah. Erm. Thanks, I think. But... You know, maybe I'll just come back later..."

"Don't tell me that you're afraid of a little nail polish?" Android 18 smirked. "Oh come on. You might as well get used to it. Isn't your granddaughter going to be at that age soon?"

_I really hope not._ Goku thought. But he chose not say anything. In truth, he wasn't sure about Pans interests. And he didn't quite know what a manicure was. But the whole concept of cosmetics... Had never settled well with Goku. Because he kind of suspected that needles might be involved. And he HATED needles. Goku was backpeddling in midair. "That's okay. I can wait. It's nothing urgent."

"You fly over here in Super Saiyan mode in the middle of the night, without calling ahead, to visit for the first time in YEARS and it's not urgent?" 18 sounded dubious - perhaps even offended. "You expect me to believe that?

Goku had to admit that she had a point. It did seem rather crazy. But how could he explain...

"Oh no." A flash of memory, a click of realization. Goku muttered a curse and began to turn away from Kame Island.

"Hey! Goku! Where are you going?" Down on the beach, Oolong folded his arms and shook his head. The humanoid pig was clearly indignant. He shouted to a figure standing in the doorway of the house. "Jeez. See? He doesn't even talk to us anymore. Guess we're not good enough -"

A streak of gold zipped past Android 18 and landed on the beach in a crouch. The intense aura billowed out, knocking Oolong off his feet and charring a few of the palm trees. "The blueprints..." Goku couldn't hide his anxiety. He would have liked to - for his friends sake. But... "The android blueprints. You left them at Capsule Corp, didn't you?"

Kuririn leaned against the doorframe of the Kame House. His voice mirrored the concern that Goku couldn't hide. "Well, yeah. But that was ages ago. Before the Cell Games. Why? What's wrong?"

* * *

Excitement. Buu tilted his round head and listened to the voices in the next room. Ten minutes ago, when he had arrived at the mansion, there had been surprise and panic. But now... His friend, Mr. Satan, sounded happy.

And so did Fujiko.

Buu had met the Satan City Police Chief before. Several times. Because Fujiko was a friend of Videls and Fujiko also attended a lot of the same conferences that Mr. Satan got invited to. Buu didn't really understand the human concepts of police or law but he liked Fujiko anyway. More than once, in the past ten years, the Satan City Police Chief had rescued Buus dog - Bee, who never wore a collar - from the local pound.

It felt good, to know that the people he cared about were happy. Although Buu had to admit - he wasn't sure WHY they were happy. Maybe it was because he'd brought Videl home? Yea. That had to be it. Because Videl didn't typically take naps in parking lots.

Buu did not sleep very often and when he did sleep, it wasn't for long. So when his friends in one location went to bed, Buu would fly or teleport to another part of the planet. Because there was always someone awake on Earth - somewhere. Always something to do. Thus after the game of tag with Pan had ended... Buu had wandered off to the west. A few months ago, he had found a small village out in that direction and he now visited the place every night. Buu thought it was fun. The villagers would start a project - plowing a field or building a barn or something like that - and Buu would finish it. Alone. At night. Usually in less than five minutes. Sometimes he would return in the morning just to watch the surprised reactions of the villagers. He didn't truly understand what the villagers meant when they bowed to him and called him Kami-sama - he'd tried to explain that his name was Buu - but it made him laugh. Which was a good feeling.

However most of his wanderings were confined to the wilderness. Buu was always searching for new things to explore and experience. Mountains and forests and rivers and oceans... And so it was only because Buu considered Mr. Satan a friend, that Buu had decided to keep track of Videls energy signature.

For the past ten years... Buu had gotten accustomed to picking out the ki of the people he respected. So even though Mr. Hercule Satan was not terribly strong, even though Mr. Satan was usually in the middle of a crowded place... Buu could detect his friend with ease. And so even though Videls energy signature had only flared up for a moment... Even though she had been in a city, surrounded by the energy of all the things living there... Buu had noticed.

He thought it was sort of strange, the way Videls energy had flashed. Even when she was angry - Videl didn't usually manage to raise her ki that much. And she had been hurt and bleeding when he'd first arrived... Had she summoned enough power to injure herself? Why would Videl do that? Since when was Videl capable of doing that? It didn't make sense to Buu.

Whenever Buu had a question, he went to Mr. Satan first. So after healing Videl and also a blue-haired lady that had been sleeping on the pavement nearby, Buu had picked up both the humans and teleported to Hercules mansion in Satan City. Hercule had immediately called Fujiko. The police chief had arrived within minutes. They had put Videl on the sofa and covered her with a blanket. They had handcuffed the blue-haired woman to a chair. And now...

Buu couldn't contain his curiosity. "What that?" He pointed at the images on the television screen. It didn't seem like a funny show... So why did it make his friends happy?

Fujiko was momentarily at a loss for words. "Uhm. Well. This is..."

"This is a very special show, Buu. We're lucky that you found it. Here. Watch." Hercule tapped some buttons on the tv remote control. The images on the screen went fuzzy as things moved backwards in fast motion. The reverse-motion slowed then stopped and the image cleared as the recording played. "See this man?" Hercule pointed to one of the people on the screen. "His name is Dr. Briefs. He looks perfectly healthly here but... He's dead now, Buu. Do you understand? He can't play anymore. And maybe these recordings will show us what happened to him."

"Oh." Buu watched as the security cameras followed Dr. Briefs through the hospital. Some part of Buu was already bored. Yet there was a part of his mind that found the whole concept rather creepy. Buu didn't like watching shows about people who couldn't play anymore.

Fujiko hesitated a moment and then pressed a button on the tv. The show stopped. Fujiko took out one recording and then placed another in. "Here..." Fujiko nodded, Mr. Satan pressed some buttons on the tv remote and a new image played. "Maybe you can help us, Buu-san." Mr. Satan had wheeled in another - smaller - television from a different room earlier. Fujiko turned on the second set as well. More button pushing and the images on both screens froze.

"This is the problem." Fujiko explained. "Do you see the numbers in the top left corner of each screen? Yes? That is a clock, Buu-san. And according to this clock - "

"Bulma Briefs was in two places at once." Hercule pointed to the sleeping blue-haired woman that they had handcuffed to a chair. "That is Bulma Briefs. We don't think she could have been in two places at once, Buu. We just don't know which place she was at for sure. So... Do you think you could check?"

Five million years ago, Buu had been summoned. Had been created as a magical warrior. So his main skills were fighting and spell-casting. But the wizard had wanted to make Buu invincible... Thus Buu had gradually learned the skills - the spells, actually - of a healer as well. Absorbing the energy of others, regenerating... It was a lot more difficult to defeat someone who wouldn't stay injured. And even more difficult to defeat someone who could predict or mimic your every move. Buu had never been meant to have any psychic abilities. It was just an accidental extension of his healing talent, really. A side-effect from having absorbed a few gods. Reading minds was an easy way to tell what needed healing, what kind of damage had been done. And while he hadn't had much practice at healing creatures other than himself... Buu was good enough that he could, probably, enter someone elses brain and find what he was after.

However the idea just plain didn't appeal to him. Buu conveyed this by pulling down on both sides of his mouth to comically distort his face while he said: "Bleah."

"It's very important, Buu-san" Fujiko persisted. "If this picture is correct -" Fujiko indicated the screen on the left, "then Bulma Briefs is guilty of murder. If the other one is correct then she's innocent."

"Bleah." Buu sprouted an extra pair of arms and made the gesture of covering his ears. For Buu, this was just a gesture since he didn't actually have any visible ears. He might have also covered his eyes but since his eyes were constantly squinted shut anyway...

Mr. Satan sighed. It seemed so ironic. Buu had the logic of a five-year-old and the power of... Eh. Was there even anything worth comparing Buu to? Probably not. Anyway. Buu had the logic of a five-year old. And that meant..."Of course, we'd reward you for your help."

"Bleah?"

"Is it true that there's going to be a new chocolate factory -" Mr. Satan began. Because he knew there was going to be a new factory. And since he was famous, he could always request a private tour.

"No!" Buu interrupted, startling his friends. "No want candy!"

Fujiko and Hercule both stared at the pink monster as if he'd just quoted Shakespeare. For Buu to refuse sweets... Was unheard of.

Eventually Hercule recovered. He placed a hand on Buus forehead. "Hrm. No fever..."

Buu blinked and checked his own forehead then nodded. "Not sick." He confirmed. "Buu wants something better."

"What's better than chocolate?" Mr. Satan asked.

Buu paused. On the one hand... He'd promised Pan that he wouldn't tell anyone the secret because she wasn't supposed to tell anyone. On the other hand... Pan had told him anyway. And Buu felt that Hercule and Fujiko could be trusted. And this was important. Because this was - Pan had said so - the only sure-fire way to cure Bee. Forever. So Buu dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned forward all confidentially and shocked his friends for a second time. "Dragonballs." He told them. "Buu wants dragonballs."

* * *


	8. Act 7

_Capsule Corpse_

by DoraMouse

* * *

**Act 7**

Three streaks of energy, flying together through an urban maze. Weaving past aircars and skyscrapers, moving too fast to be visible. And then one of the energy signatures abruptly darted off on its own.

_Augh..._ Surprised, Goten did some mental cursing as he changed direction. He didn't understand why Yamucha had suddenly taken off but it was already clear that chasing the elder warrior was going to be a pain. True - Goten had more power and speed at his disposal but this was West Capital City, Yamuchas home town. So Yamucha knew the area. Goten, on the other hand, wasn't accustomed to cities this size. West Capital City was the type of place where Goten could have gotten lost if he'd been walking around in broad daylight. Flying around at night only multiplied the odds against him.

"Where is he going?" Uub asked.

Goten sighed in frustration. "I'm not sure. How are you holding up?"

A year ago, Uub hadn't even been capable of hovering. Now Uub appeared to be keeping pace without much effort. It was kind of disturbing, the ease with which Uub could learn just about any skill related to fighting. Goten was privately glad that Uub wasn't a more ambitious warrior. The kid was dangerous enough.

"If you don't know where he's going then we could be following him into a trap, right?" Uub persisted.

Goten blinked. "Well, I guess..." He began to say but Uubs tone had startled him a little and so he glanced sideways. Just in time to notice... "Hey! Wait! Don't - "

A burst of energy. By the time Gotens words were spoken, Uub had pulled his dagger and was gone. The energy signatures collided and changed direction and dropped. More mental cursing. Goten hurried ahead and landed, leaving skid marks across the pavement. "Don't!"

Yamucha was cornered but still standing, although not very steadily. The dagger had grazed him in two places and it had obviously taken a lot of his energy to block as much of the attack as he had. He scowled at Uub with an unreadable expression. His voice was bitter. "Great. Another super kid."

"You can't out run us." Uub said calmly.

"No kidding." Yamucha grumbled as he inspected his injuries. "Wild guess - you're not even at half power, right?"

"He's not." Goten stood between them to end the confrontation. He decided to deal with Uub first. "Put the dagger away. You're not going to earn my fathers forgiveness if you attack his friends."

It was Uubs turn to look surprised. "But..." He stepped back. "I didn't know! I mean, I didn't think that..." Uub shook his head and started over. "Goku-sensei usually talks about his friends in past tense. I didn't realize that any of them were still alive."

Yamucha raised a cynical eyebrow.

"My apologies." Uub offered a bow, "I thought you might be trying to lead us into a trap."

"Uh-huh." Yamucha straightened his baseball cap. He had lost his sunglasses sometime during the struggle. "Listen, kid. Do me a favor and don't try saving the world or anything until you get your facts straight." He lowered his voice. "Hmf. Heros like this and we won't need villains."

Goten bristled slightly at the remark. "Give him a break, he didn't know. Besides - you're the one who decided to take off on us all the sudden."

"Logic." Yamucha shrugged. "If the police are after all of us then we probably shouldn't be seen together, okay? Good. Now that we've got that sorted out..."

Yamucha hovered. But Goten reacted quickly, snatching a sleeve and tugging the elder warrior back down. "Why are you in such a hurry?" Goten muttered. "And why are the police after you, anyway? We can't help unless you tell us what's going on, you know."

Somewhere between amused and irritated, Yamucha pulled his sleeve loose and hovered again. "Don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing. I'll take care of this."

"Answer the question." Uub interrupted and then, as an afterthought, "Please."

"You first. Why are the police after you? Did you rob a bank or is that just how you always look?"

Uub, now mildly offended, hefted both his dagger and his spear. "There's nothing wrong with the way I look! Everyone in my tribe..."

"That's a matter of opinion." Yamucha held up a hand to ward off further protests. "I doubt that the authorities view you as harmless, that's all."

"Ahem." Goten cleared his throat. "Can we get back to the subject? We're trying to figure out - "

"Don't." Yamucha said firmly.

"But..."

The defensive edge in Yamuchas tone and stance softened. He nudged Goten. "You have school tomorrow, right?"

"Well, yea, but..."

"And your Mom is probably worried about you even as we speak, right?"

"Well... Maybe. Okay - probably. But..."

"Trust me, the best thing you can do right now is go home." Yamucha glanced towards Uub. "You too."

In the space of less than twenty seconds, Goten acknowledged several things. He knew what his responsibilities were. Goten knew that he couldn't afford to miss school. This was his year to graduate - why risk messing that up? And he respected his mother, he didn't want to worry her. And Uub... Yea. Uub should probably go home. Sure - Uub was a dangerous warrior. But Goten didn't want to have a ten year get involved in the murder investigation. Under the circumstances, Goten wasn't even certain of his own rights. He wasn't a certified detective and he wasn't a direct relative of Dr. Briefs. The only reason that Goten had been interested in solving the mystery was to prove himself to his family but... Without Videl around to flash her badge... It probably wasn't even legal for Goten to investigate. Yamucha was basically correct, in other words. Leaving West Capital City would be the most sensible thing to do. Goten realized this. But... Leaving just felt... Wrong. Yamucha obviously wasn't telling them everything. Which bothered Goten because he'd always known - and trusted - his fathers friends to be very honest with him.

"And where will you go?" Uub took a step around Goten, so that Yamucha was left between them. "Back there?"

Uub was pointing down the street. It took Goten a moment to recognize the place. A row of police vehicles were parked neatly by the curb. And across the street, with a dim neon sign, sat the deli. The exact same place they had so recently fled. Goten was stunned. What did this mean? Why had Yamucha gone to all that effort just to try and ditch them? Was Yamucha working with the police or - ?

Yamucha blurred and took a step backwards. Goten reached out to block him and so did Uub. Yamucha ducked under both of their blocks. Uub reacted first. In one smooth, swift predatory motion Uub rotated his spear so that the point came down at an angle. Yamucha had to grab a piece of the shaft to forcefully redirect the spear point. Uub put more of his weight behind the weapon and the resulting heavy impact of the spear tip against the pavement created sparks.

"Drop it." Yamucha said, with a flare of his aura for emphasis. "I don't have time for this."

Uub frowned. "Then you'd better talk fast."

For a moment Yamucha seemed to consider telling them everything but then he shook his head. "Maybe no one has ever taught you this - but the whole reason that heros exist is so that the rest of the world doesn't have to worry about stupid stuff endangering their freedoms. Got it? You're free, kid. Be happy. Go home. Enjoy. _Someone_ should."

"Why? It's too late for you, Yamucha-san?" Goten commented. "Eh. Nice lecture. Might have worked when I was five. Too bad I'm eighteen. How about some respect?" 

"How about later?" Yamucha tried to hover.

Goten had hesitated to attack before - this time he didn't. A step forward, grab, twist and wait. Because when you were in a city, trying to make someone stubborn talk... Then ki blasts would be going overboard. So Goten just used an arm bar. Yamucha struggled to break loose but quickly realized that he couldn't hope to save his arm and avoid the spear at the same time.

"As a martial artist, I'm sure that you realize how easily this could turn into a choke hold. And if I have to choose... I'd rather knock you out than break your arm - okay?" said Goten. "Sorry but you really shouldn't have turned your back on me."

Silence. But it didn't last for long.

"Hmf. So much for a fair fight." Yamucha straightened up. He spoke through gritted teeth. Exhaustion and age - he was fifty-two, even if only looked about thirty-five - tainted his voice. "Fine. All right. You win." He refused to meet their gazes but nodded in the direction of the deli. "I'll tell you this much. If I'm not back there in about two minutes, someone will die. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Now let me go."

Uub relaxed his guard slightly. "Who will die?"

Yamucha shook his head. "I'm not telling you that."

"Then we'll go with you."

"No. They want me to show up alone."

Silence. And then something crinkled. It was a very small noise, the type of sound that could only be heard during silences. Curious, Uub leaned forward and poked at Yamuchas oversized sweatshirt. "Sounds like paper..."

Comprehension struck. "You're paying a ransom!" Goten blurted out.

Not one to waste opportunities, Yamucha spent a couple seconds reversing the arm bar and soon had Goten in a headlock. "The less you know, the better." Yamucha sighed. "Believe me, it's a mess. Nice to see you again and everything - but bad timing. I need to be going. And I can't have anyone following me. So..."

The spear tip came to rest on Yamuchas shoulder. Yamucha flinched. Uubs aura didn't have to be visible - his strength could be felt. And even without powering up... Uub had enough strength to drive a spear through a person. "Tell us who will die." Uub repeated. "Maybe we can rescue them."

"Good luck." Yamucha muttered in a sarcastic gosh-why-didn't-I-think-of-that tone. "The hostage could be anywhere in the world by now." He explained. "If you can find them in, oh, thirty seconds - great. More power to you. But since that's not very likely..."

A bright flash. A split second of turbulence. The clatter and scrape of objects impacting concrete. Goten wasn't quite sure what had happened but by the time he regained his bearings, Yamucha was gone. And so were the police vehicles that had been parked down the street.

* * *

Half-awake, Videl stretched and studied her surroundings. It took her a few moments to recognize the guest room of her fathers house. She was mildly relieved to be in a familiar place and even more relieved not to be waking up in a hospital. But... _How did I get here?_ Videl leaned on her elbows and rubbed her eyes. _How long have I been out?_

There wasn't a clock in this room but there was a small window nearby. Without getting up from the sofa, Videl reached out and lifted an edge of the curtain. She stared at the view. It was dark and quiet outside. Night. And then Videl, still sleepy, remembered that the Earth didn't have a moon anymore. So she couldn't try to guess the time by looking at the moons position in the sky.

She let the curtain drop back into place. It wasn't fair, Videl decided. The world had changed so much, just in her own lifetime. Once, when she was younger, Videl had wanted to become an astronaut. But then someone had blown up the moon. Pan would grow up thinking that no moon was normal. Pan would grow up thinking that being able to fly without an airplane was normal too. And fighting with energy blasts. And having relatives that could teleport. And... Sometimes, it made Videl wonder just what in the world she had in common with her daughter.

Videl yawned. Closed her eyes. Curled up and pulled the blankets around her. She was tired. The sofa was warm and comfortable. Her mind was still foggy. Nothing that she could remember of recent events made much sense at the moment.

And then... Voices. Distant but clear.

"What's a dragonball?" Someone asked, bewildered. The voice seemed familiar but Videl couldn't place it.

Videl squinted over the edge of the blankets. Was this a dream? She still felt half-awake...

"Uhm. I'm not at liberty to discuss those." Mr. Satan was saying.

Videl reluctantly sat up and pushed the blankets back. She had heard of the dragonballs before - Gohan had mentioned them once or twice - but Videl didn't really know much about the artifacts. So what made her get up was her fathers voice, which she had recognized immediately. Because dream or not, if her father was around then he might know how she had gotten here.

She stood and the weight of her aching body convinced her that she was not dreaming. There was a small circular mirror in the room. Videl chose to ignore her reflection. She was a mess - but a hot shower, a hairbrush and a change of clothes would easily fix that. Later, though. First... With a disappointed yawn and a blanket wrapped around her, Videl shuffled towards the next room and made a mental list of things to do. In a typical motherly fashion, all of Videls main concerns were for other people. It was night... She would have to go home and make sure that Pan had gotten to bed. And Gohan would likely need to be asleep by now as well, he had some early classes in the morning. And...

A little more awake now, Videl swore. She'd left Goten in West Capital City! True - he could fly home on his own and everything but jeez... Videl was eight years older than her brother-in-law. She was supposed to be the responsible adult. She'd have to call him, make sure that he'd gotten home safely. And ChiChi. She'd have to call ChiChi as well, to apologize. Because ChiChi had worked so hard to make dinner for all of them and then... Videls stomach grumbled, interrupting her train of thought. When had she last eaten?

"V-chan!" A pink blur engulfed her in a hug that would have crushed a regular person. "Can I have the dragonballs? Please?"

"Buu..." Videl managed to squeak. "Put me down..."

"Please, please, please?"

Buu was mimicking the sugar-coated tone of voice that Pan always used when she was trying to get her way. Despite the fact that Buu was insanely strong, the monster seemed to take advice from Pan on a regular basis. So if something worked for Pan... Then Buu expected it to work for him as well.

"Please, please, please, please, please?"

Whenever Pan really wanted something, she went to her mother. Because Videl was around the most. Gohan went to school and work and fought crime. Thus Pan didn't see her father as much. Videl hated the idea of having to be the parent who made rules and said no. So instead, on most occasions, Videl tried to make compromises. The end result... Pan was probably a bit spoiled. She got away with quite a lot. Because it was hard for Videl to enforce the rules when the kid was so strong.

Buu was several hundred times stronger than Pan. At least. Videl didn't really understand why the monster ever asked for anyones permission to do anything. There wasn't much that could prevent Buu from basically doing whatever he wanted. Kind of a frightening concept.

Not wanting to upset the monster, Videl didn't even bother to compromise. "Yea. Sure. Whatever. Go for it."

"YAY!" Buu released Videl and danced around inside the mansion.

Videl staggered to the nearest wall, mentally debating whether she should call a chiropractor before or after ordering some fried rice from a local 24 hour take-out.

"Are you all right?" Fujiko came to stand beside Videl for extra support. "What have you done? What is a dragonball?"

"It's... A toy." Mr. Satan improvised. He'd had a lot of practice, working with the media, so he managed to make the lie sound convincing.

"A toy?" Fujiko repeated, nervously watching Buu. "A toy can make him _that_ happy? Heck, maybe I should get one. What does this dragonball toy do? I've never heard of..."

"Please don't tell anyone." Mr. Satan whispered. "We're still in the design stages, you know?"

Videl might have laughed or clapped at her fathers performance if she hadn't felt so woozy. Then she noticed the televisions. Videl pushed away from Fujiko and the wall and managed to walk halfway normally on her own. She went up to the largest television screen and frowned at the image there, leaning forward until her nose touched the glass.

"Two places at once." Videl muttered, looking from one screen to the other. Both displayed the recorded images of Bulma in Lotus Medical Center. "Or maybe..." Videl tapped the top left corner of the large screen. "... this clock's been edited."

Fujiko went rigid. "I should have thought of that." The Satan City Police Chief stepped forward, pressed some buttons and took the recordings out of the televisions. "I'll take these to our tech lab for analysis. If any of these images has been altered..."

With a thud, Buu bounced back into the room and landed beside Videl. "Where are they?"

"Huh?"

"The dragonballs." Buu pouted. "You said I could have them. Where are they?"

Videl radiated mild distress. She didn't want to provoke a temper tantrum. "I have no idea..."

Fujiko chuckled. "Buu-san! You have to wait a while. The toy hasn't even been made yet."

"Right." Mr. Satan remembered - sort of - the events from ten years ago. But he didn't want to have to explain what the actual dragonballs were to anyone. Too risky. The world was a strange enough place without everyone on Earth hunting for magical wish-granting artifacts. "We're still designing it, remember?" He said encouragingly, hoping that Buu would take the hint and go along with this. "The toy?"

Because his eyes were perpetually scrunched closed, Buu couldn't really stare at anyone. Still. He was very good at giving the impression that he was staring at people. So Buu stared blankly at Mr. Satan for a few moments. "No."

"Ah. Well, we have been very busy lately." Mr. Satan smiled at Fujiko to hide his nervousness. "Haven't had much time to work on..."

"Not a toy." Buu stated flatly. "That's not what Pan said."

"Aha-ha... Kids these days." Mr. Satan mumbled.

"You want dragonballs?" The voice was soft but had a desperate, sinister edge to it. Bulma was awake and had quietly - somehow - managed to dismantle one set of handcuffs. "I know where the dragonballs are."

* * *

"Blue." Marron announced, circling with padded steps. She paused to survey Gokus hands from every possible angle then nodded and stepped back. "Blue. Definitely."

"Ah... You really don't have to..." Goku couldn't have backed away any further without going through a wall.

Marron didn't seem to hear him. She plucked a bottle of something light blue from a large plastic cosmetic case. She held the bottle up and inspected it critically then glanced in Gokus direction and shook her head. Marron spent the next minute repeating this process, with at least fifteen different shades of blue.

"We'll be out in a few." said Android 18 as she walked down the corridor of the Kame House, gently tugging the curlers out of her hair.

"Uhm. Why don't I leave _now_?" Goku was edging towards the door. "And both of you can catch up to me?"

"What, you can't sit still for five minutes?" Android 18 shook her head, a tangle of short blond curls taking shape around her face. "Why even bother to come out here if you're in such a hurry? You could have just phoned."

"It won't take us long to get changed." Kuririn agreed, holding the bedroom door open for his wife. "You might as well wait for us."

"Then... I'll wait outside... Okay?"

Goku turned, intending to tear out of the house but Marron was standing there, right in his way. She held up a dark blue bottle and smiled. "Perfect." Marron seized one of his wrists and moved towards the living room. Towards a low table covered in small metal tools. Marron picked up what appeared to be a miniature saw. "Don't worry Mr. Son." She said cheerfully, "Even _your_ fingernails can be saved."

Something on that low table resembled a needle. It might not even be a needle but from here... Inwardly, Goku cringed. Still - he'd always be taught to be polite. And to run screaming from a friends house probably wouldn't be polite. So Goku took a deep breath and did his absolute best to pretend like he hadn't noticed the possible-needle-thing at all. Instead, with a gesture of mild embarrassment, he retreated a bit and offered the most credible excuse he could think of. "Erm. Thanks. That's very kind but... My wife would never believe..."

Marron tilted her head to one side, her blond ponytails swaying slightly with the motion. "Why not? I do her nails all the time."

A stunned pause. Then Marron exhaled a dramatic sigh - through her mouth since, like her father, she lacked a visible nose. "With all due respect, Mr. Son, it wouldn't _kill_ you to notice these things once in a while." Marron remarked. Content to leave the subject at that, Marron lifted her saw-like tool and frowned intensely at Gokus hands. "Ouch." She muttered with disapproval. "You still do a lot of training, huh? Are most of your ki blasts focused through your fingertips or do you just spend a lot of time punching brick walls?"

"You paint my wifes fingernails?" Goku hadn't been home enough during the past year to notice. And he couldn't quite imagine. ChiChi... Didn't usually wear any sort of makeup. Not as far as Goku knew, anyway. Makeup was impractical and expensive and gaudy, that's what ChiChi had said once. But... That had been at least twenty years ago. Perhaps ChiChis opinion had changed.

"Yea." Marron shrugged, dropping her mini-saw into a pocket and reaching for some other colors. "Like this."

Marron had obviously inherited some aspects of her parents energy. She had her fathers knack for speed and her mothers gift for precision. It was a combination that left Goku with one fingernail painted before he could react. And when he did react, he had to suppress the urge to scream.

"Cute design, huh?" Marron wasn't phased by Gokus less than joyful reaction. "Of course, usually the paint is the last thing. Gotta get the nail clean first - that's the hard part. But the finished design looks a lot better that way."

"... This stuff _does_ come off, right?"

Marron rolled her eyes. "No. Sorry. You're stuck with it forever."

Eight minutes later, Kuririn ventured out of the Kame House and stood on the beach beside his friend. "She was kidding, okay? Teenagers do that sometimes."

Goku scowled in response.

"Would you stop trying to remove the stuff with ki?" Oolong appeared, carrying a first aid kit. "You'll end up taking your own fingers off at this rate."

Goku stared glumly at his single painted fingernail. "It doesn't wash off."

"No - but it'll wear off, if you give it a few days." Kuririn finished buttoning up his dark leather jacket. Then he focused on the phone that Oolong had tucked under one arm. "Was that Roshi?"

The humanoid pig grinned and nodded. "Yup. He's havin' a blast. Details later if you care to hear 'em."

Kuririn shoved his hands into his pockets. "As long as he doesn't provoke anymore lawsuits."

Oolong laughed. "That'll be the day."

"Uhm..." Goku hadn't detected his former sensei at the Kame House, so the news that Master Roshi was elsewhere was no surprise. "What is Roshi up to these days?"

"Don't worry. It's nothing perverted - for once. Master Roshi has a new hobby." Kuririn explained. "He likes to visit history museums now."

"When you're closing on four hundred years old, you're automatically a history expert." Oolong smiled. "Which gives you the right to raise hell if the museums don't present things accurately."

"Oh." Goku wasn't really paying attention. He was eyeing the first aid kit and trying to decide whether or not to cover his hands with bandages. A bandage could hide the painted fingernail. But having just one bandage would seem odd - for Goku - and he knew it. Because Goku generally lived between extremes. He was sort of an all-or-nothing type. So if he was going to convince anyone that he'd actually been hurt enough to warrant any bandages at all, it was going to take more than one bandage. But some of these bandages had patterns on them and... Why couldn't the things be plain? Goku didn't understand it. A bandage was supposed to stop bleeding - not make a fashion statement.

Android 18 stepped out of the Kame House. She was wearing an outfit that matched Kuririns - sleeveless black shirt, blue denim jeans and a dark jacket. For some reason, though, while Kuririn looked casual... 18 looked deadly.

"Ready." 18 muttered, her attitude grim. She had refused to stay at home. The android blueprints being kept at Capsule Corp had never settled well with 18 and so the idea that some unknown person with unknown motives might have taken the blueprints... Had put a rather evil glint into Android 18s eyes. It was going to be messy if she caught up to the criminal before anyone else did. "What else are we looking for?"

"Anything we can find." Goku stood and brushed the sand off his clothes, trying not to draw too much attention to the now half-empty first aid kit at his feet. In the darkness... Perhaps no one saw all the bandages on his hands. Or perhaps everyone simply chose not to make comments to Goku about them. "The gravity chamber is missing, I know that much."

"Great." Kuririn grumbled. "How the heck did that happen?"

"I don't know yet." Goku hovered, preparing to fly west. "Lets get going."

"Try to come back alive." Oolong said with an informal salute. He picked up the remains of the first aid kit and went back indoors.

Android 18 grimaced at Goku. "You're kidding, right? Aren't we going to teleport?"

"She's got a point." said Kuririn. "Time is everything right now - and it takes time to fly to West Capital City from here. It'd probably be morning there before we arrived."

Goku studied his shoes as if he'd find an answer written on them. "Problem is..." He finally admitted. "That I kind of... misplaced... Vegeta in the afterlife. Sooo... I can't exactly latch onto his ki and teleport there. I could try to latch onto the collective energy of every person in the city but... That kind of stuff tends to give me a headache and I'd hate to have all of us reduced to sludge."

A moment of mildly horrified silence to let that mental image sink in.

Android 18 hovered. "Perhaps I'll fly after all."

"You _misplaced_ Vegeta in the afterlife?" Kuririns voice was a blend of wonder and disbelief. "Should I even ask?"

"Don't worry. Vegeta's still alive. Erm. Well. He was when I last saw him, anyway." Goku said hurriedly, "I'm sure that he'll find a way back, if he wants to."

Kuririn glanced up at the constellations of the night as if he half expected the sky to collapse on him. "Guess we'll burn that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime... What about Yamucha? He's still living over in West Capital City - can't you detect him? And what about Trunks? Doesn't Trunks still live in that area?"

"Ah... Hangon." Goku reluctantly turned his attention to the world of energy. Well. His conscious attention. On the subconscious level, his attention never truly left the world of energy. Not anymore. Because Goku had to be constantly aware of his own aura in order to keep it at safe levels. There were days when he still left footprints in asphalt by accident - but he tried to keep such incidents to a minimum.

Once he got past his own ki - not a simple feat, no matter how much practice he'd had - Goku was better able to detect other people. He could detect Kuririn easily right now but only because Kuririn was standing less than two feet away. Android 18 didn't have a detectable ki. Oolong was just a speck of lifeforce inside the Kame House. There was a ki that Goku didn't recognize. It wasn't hostile or monumentally powerful but... Something about this particular energy gave Goku the creeps. He frowned at the Kame House, mildly disturbed - the unfamiliar aura must belong to Marron - and then focused on pushing his awareness outward. Towards West Capital City.

Since Vegeta spent a ridiculous amount of time training, Vegeta was almost constantly powered up. Which had made Vegeta one of the most detectable creatures on the planet. Easy to locate, easy to teleport to. Meanwhile Yamucha had retired from fighting years ago and besides, Yamucha knew how to completely conceal his ki. And Trunks... Hadn't powered up to a detectable level since the day he'd moved out of the family mansion. So Goku honestly didn't expect to get a clear impression for either of their energy signatures.

Of course, Goku also didn't expect to abruptly detect Uub - but poof, there it was. Clear as anything. Uubs energy signature. There could be no mistaking that ki. Goku blinked. What in the world was his student doing in West Capital City? _One way to find out..._ Goku lifted a fist towards his forehead, two fingers extended. The gesture alone signaled that he had found a strong enough ki to attempt teleporting to, so he didn't have to tell Kuririn and Android 18 to stay close. They took the hint. The three of them blurred and vanished soon afterwards.

And then something rather strange happened.

* * *

The room felt very crowded all the sudden. Buu could feel the energy go bad. It made him nervous. The blue haired lady was standing there, smirking and talking. She said that she knew where the dragonballs were. But the way she said it... Buu didn't like the way she said it. The blue haired lady thought he was just a stupid pink blob that would take orders from anyone. That's how she talked to him. That's what she was thinking.

Hercule and Videl didn't trust the blue haired lady. Fujiko was tempted to shoot the blue haired lady. Even without all the verbal warnings and hostile body language, Buu could have sensed that much. However the clincher, in this case, was Bee. The dog had always been an excellent judge of character. And right now Bee was crouched, head down and body tense, growling softly from a favorite napping place.

"I don't believe you." Buu finally spoke. "You don't know where the dragonballs are."

Hercule and Videl mentally cheered. Fujiko stood back, willing to let Buu deal with this for now.

Bulma tried to hide her disgust but she couldn't. Even though her voice remained calm, her thoughts were loud. And she thought of herself as such a great genius that even a stupid pink blob should just accept her orders. Because she didn't like to compromise. "I might not know where the dragonballs are right at this precise moment." Bulma explained, her patience wearing thin. "But I can find them very easily. And if you help me..."

"You want the dragonballs too?" Buu inquired.

"If I wanted the dragonballs," Bulma said defensively, "I'd have them."

"Oh." Buu had a flexible skeleton to support his mass. Thus when he cared to, Buu was capable of being a foot taller than anyone. He drew himself up and squinted heavily at the blue haired lady. She was a meanie and he didn't understand why. It was all very confusing. And if this lady didn't want the dragonballs... And if she really was a genius... "Why you need my help then?"

"She doesn't. All the help this lady needs is right here." Mr. Hercule Satan cut in, he was cracking his knuckles. "Buu... If Pan told you about these dragonballs then you should go ask Pan where they are. Maybe she knows."

Videl began to protest. Fujiko nodded approval. And the blue haired lady actually looked vulnerable for a moment. She was far away from home and didn't have any control of the situation and... Some very sad thoughts hung in her mind, behind all the defenses. Buu got the vague feeling that the blue haired woman was extremely worried about something. Maybe that's why she was acting so mean?

Buu leaned close and poked her shoulder. "What?"

The poke was enough to knock Bulma back into the chair that she had formerly been handcuffed to. She clutched her shoulder and hissed. "Hey! What's the big idea? Watch what you're doing - "

"What you so sad about?" Buu interrupted, curious. "What make you so mean?"

Bulmas eyes went wide and her heart skipped a couple beats. She hadn't realized that Buu could detect thoughts as well as auras so she was momentarily stunned. And then her anger returned at full force. "How _dare_ you! That's none of your business, you obese moronic - "

Hercule stepped forward and slapped her. The shock of which caused another short moment of silence. "My friend is neither overweight nor stupid." Mr. Satan eventually stated, outrage lacing his voice. "You owe him an apology."

"And an explanation." Fujiko added, one hand resting the hilt of a standard issue gun. "Buu-san asked you two questions. We would appreciate hearing the answers. Without your immature dramatics this time."

"It's NONE of your business." Bulma repeated quietly.

"Actually, it is." Fujiko countered. "Because you're under arrest. If you don't want to talk here - that's fine. We'll have plenty of time to chat down at the station."

Buu noticed the way that the blue haired womans thoughts changed. She was still angry and mean but... Not as visibly, now. Something inside her was crumbling.

"No." said Bulma "We won't have time to chat. I don't have time at all. Someone is trying to kill me."

* * *


End file.
